


Stained Glass

by lotusk



Series: stained glass [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art, Art Major Jongin, Art School, Babies and kids love jongin and he loves them right back, College, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Language, Music, Piercings, References to Homophobia, Romance, Sassy Kyungsoo, Tattoos, Tsundere Jongin, bffs xiusoo, moms, vocal major Kyungsoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/pseuds/lotusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tattoos that mark Jongin's skin help him to keep the world at a distance and he's perfectly fine with that until he hears Kyungsoo sing. Finally, Jongin has found someone he's curious about - someone he doesn't want to keep at a distance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

_You hold me without touch_  
_You keep me without chains_  
_I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love_  
_and not feel your rain_

[Words from _[Gravity](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9kZqpsmJgA&app=desktop)_ by Sara Bareilles]

Motes of dust floated lazily through the air as the autumn sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows - blanketing the battered wooden floor with a patchwork of vivid, vibrant light. The only sound in the room was the a scritch scratch of ebony pencil on thick, creamy drawing paper. His sketchbook balanced on one knee, Jongin leaned back against the wall, one leg stretched out before him. His right hand moved smoothly across the paper, creating an intricate lattice of lines. It wasn't long before the meticulously crafted pencil strokes began to resemble the outline of the window before him.

Jongin wasn't patient with most things in life but when it came to drawing, he made himself slow down, focus and try to connect with whatever he was drawing. He rarely drew people though because they were too troublesome. They asked for food, drink, and sometimes even money. But the worst thing was when they wanted to talk. Jongin just wanted to draw - he didn't need all that other shit. It had just been easier to stop drawing people after a while. He preferred capturing beautiful things on paper and he had a particular fascination for windows and light. So when he'd discovered this abandoned practice room several days ago and seen the stained glass windows, he'd known he would return here. No matter what, he would try to recreate those blocks of red, blue, green and champagne tinted glass; he would try to recreate the stylized angels they depicted. No matter what.

Jongin never rushed when he was drawing because he knew rushing meant mistakes and time wasted on fixing messed up lines. So his body instinctively slowed down whenever he picked up a drawing pencil. He was nursing a mild hangover from some drunken party he'd gone to the night before, but he never let physical discomfort get in the way of his drawing technique. He was carefully sketching in an area of window frame when his pencil suddenly ceased moving, hovering above the paper.

It was the most haunting and melodious voice he'd ever heard. Letting his hand drop soundlessly to the floor beside him, Jongin closed his eyes and just let the unfamiliar lyrics and musical notes wash over him. The unseen singer's voice was clear and pure and rich and seemed somehow to creep into, and fill every unseen fissure and crevice of his long hardened heart ...

_Something always brings me back to you_  
_It never takes too long_  
_No matter what I say or do_  
_I still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone_

_You hold me without touch_  
_You keep me without chains_  
_I never wanted anything so much_  
_Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain_

_Set me free, leave me be_  
_I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity_  
_Here I am and I stand so tall_  
_I'm just the way I'm supposed to be_  
_But you're on to me and all over me_

He didn't know the words or the music but something about the singer's voice and the words of the song called to some part of him which he thought had been long buried. He wasn't sure he wanted it coming back to life again but he could no more stop himself from listening to that voice than he could stop his body from taking oxygen into its lungs. So he ignored his head, which was telling him to put on his headphones and block out that velvety, angelic voice with the loud, jarring vocals of Korn's 'Let's Get This Party Started' or maybe Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing In the Name Of'. Anything but this. But Jongin's heart could be a stubborn thing and both iPod and headphones remained in his pocket as he allowed the words to soak into his consciousness:

_You hold me without touch_  
_You keep me without chains_  
_I never wanted anything so much_  
_Than to drown in your love and not feel your rain_

Jongin almost never took any interest in other people and their lives, so he couldn't explain why he needed to know what the singer looked like. It was not his way at all - what was he even doing? Careful not to make any noise, Jongin craned his neck to the side so he could glimpse the owner of that unearthly voice. The singer obviously hadn't noticed Jongin sitting in the back, obscured behind tidy stacks of seminar chairs, and Jongin wanted to keep it that way.

He wasn't very tall. Small shoulders, narrow hips. But the husky, melodiously powerful voice that projected from that slight figure was anything but small. Dark, straight hair fell across his pale forehead, just skimming a pair of strong eyebrows. His nose was well-defined and proportionate and his lips were thick in an almost sensual way. Finally, Jongin studied his eyes - he always left a person's eyes to the last because they told you the most about a person and most times, Jongin really preferred not to know anything about a person. The boy's doe eyes were the kind that could look right into your soul if you let them, and Jongin knew he could never meet this guy face-to-face because he wouldn't be able to withstand that gaze. His eyes shone with earnestness and kindness and someone as jaded as Jongin had no business going near someone like that.

Completely unaware he was being watched, the singer looked down at some sheets of paper as he sang the exquisite melody, his eyes closing from time to time. Standing about twenty feet from the window, the boy continued to sing the song again and again, memorizing the lyrics and the notes - faltering every now and then when he forgot the words or went slightly off pitch. As he stood there, bathed in the light of stained glass angels, Jongin studied him. He watched, mesmerized, as the boy closed his eyes and emotion suffused his features:

_Set me free, leave me be_  
_I don't wanna fall another moment into your gravity_

Feeling a little like he was falling himself, Jongin picked up his pencil and began to draw ...

\-----

Kyungsoo had come up with at least sixty different ways he was going to kill Kim Minseok, because it was his fault Kyungsoo now had to set aside at least two to three hours a week to rehearse a song he'd have to perform solo in front of an audience. Solo! And he had serious issues with stage fright. It was fine when he was singing in a group, like with the church or school choir; but when Kyungsoo had to stand alone on a stage with the spotlight on him, he was always gripped with panic and it took everything he had to just stay there and try to get the words out. So this was why he currently wanted to end Minseok's life.

His best friend of six years, Minseok always managed to talk him into doing things he didn't really want to do and didn't have the time for - this time it just happened to be performing for the Drama Club's Musical Evening. The next time Minseok tried to rope him into another time guzzling project, Kyungsoo would be firm and tell him to piss off. He just ... had to figure out how do it. But he would. Somehow. Maybe. Who was he trying to kid?! He'd never be able to say no to Minseok. Making a disgusted noise in his head, Kyungsoo brought his attention back to Sara Bareilles' 'Gravity' and tried not to think about how he'd have to sing it in front of 200 people in six weeks' time. Solo. God help him.

The stained glass window cast pretty watery technicolor shadows on the floor and practically spellbound by their beauty, Kyungsoo had to force himself to turn back to the sheaf of papers before him. He'd been so lucky to find this practice room on campus and to find it empty - just when he needed it. But he couldn't understand why he was making so many mistakes today. He knew the song well, he loved it in fact, so why was he making so many mistakes? There was no one here but him so why couldn't he concentrate? Shaking his head frustratedly, Kyungsoo immersed himself in the music sheets, trying not to get distracted by the way the floor looked like it had been splashed entirely with bright water colors.

Meanwhile, in another part of the room, a pencil moved confidently over paper ...

\-----

It was Thursday night, and Jongin always played pool with Kris and Tao on Thursday nights. Linkin Park's 'Crawling' was blasting in the background and while Jongin normally enjoyed the song, Chester Bennington's voice just grated on his nerves tonight. Images of a boy singing in stained glass shadows began to infiltrate his mind and Jongin quickly shut them down. The air was white with cigarette smoke and rank with the sour-sweet odor of spilt beer. They'd only been here for half an hour and Jongin already wanted to leave. Everything was always the same.

It was always the same bar - one that Kris's thirty something cousin Ace owned. It was called, surprise surprise, Ace's Place. The man might be generous with his alcohol but he wasn't real big on imagination. It was always the same waitress. Lauren, the heavily made-up, voluptuous 27 year-old shift waitress, had already hit on Jongin once tonight, caressing his neck and offering to take him out for dinner when she wasn't working. He had flinched as soon as her red-taloned fingers came into contact with his inked skin. It was bad enough when people touched him but he especially hated it when people touched him without warning. She had a thing for his tattoos and she told him every time she saw him. She tried to pick him up every time they came here - never mind that employees weren't allowed to pick up customers and never mind that Jongin made it abundantly clear that he wasn't interested. He really had to stop coming here.

Kris and Tao were skirting the pool table slowly, measuring angles and bumping hips indiscreetly as they navigated around each other. Jongin had been watching the two of them throw sparks off each other for months - he wished they'd just fuck already so they could all get on with their lives. He watched listlessly as the dark orange ember flared at the end of his Marlboro Light, watched as white curls of nicotine-scented smoke unfurled before him. Even the nicotine flooding his lungs offered him little enjoyment tonight.

With a bored flick of his eyes, he turned to his Corona, which was sweating delicately on the badly scuffed round table. Shoving the wedge of lemon down the neck of the bottle, he took a desultory swig of the beer and turned to stare out the window as the bitterish, pale gold liquid hit the back of his throat. There was a bus stop right opposite the bar and people were boarding the vehicle. As the bus was moving off, Jongin noticed a figure bursting from the shadows. He was sprinting on not very long legs - backpack bouncing against his spine, and he only came to a stop when he realized the bus had merged with traffic and he had no hope of catching the driver's attention. Frustration was etched all over the boy's body as he raised his arms and yelled something that looked like ... an explosive 'Aish!'. Then he abruptly sat down on the bus stop bench and glanced at his watch.

Jongin couldn't see him all that clearly from across the road but he saw enough to convince him that it was the boy from the practice room. The one with the voice of an angel. Mr. Set-Me-Free. It had been two days since he'd first set eyes on him but he hadn't been able to expel his face and voice from his mind. He turned to look at Tao and Kris flirting over their cue sticks; then he turned back to stare at the boy sitting alone at the bus stop. Coming to a decision, he took one last long drag of his cigarette and stubbed it in the overflowing ashtray.

\-----

Kyungsoo sped around the corner just in time to see the blazing tail lights taunting him as the bus merged with traffic. "Aishhh!" Kyungsoo made a sound and gesture of frustration before he sat down on the bench, bristling with annoyance. There wouldn't be another bus for thirty more minutes! If he hadn't volunteered to help the Community Centre Director with additional clean up duties, he wouldn't have been stranded here in the dark. Alone. Damn it, he was all alone. In the dark. By himself. Alone.

Kyungsoo always got nervous when he had to be anywhere dark and deserted and he was drowning in an ocean of regret that he had taken choir in high school instead of karate. He was pretty damned sure he couldn't sing someone into submission if they tried to mug him. And just as he was kicking himself mentally, someone sat down next to him on the bench. How could he have been so distracted he hadn't even noticed someone approaching? He could have been murdered just like that while he was busy whining about his life choices.

He couldn't see the stranger's face but in his peripheral vision he could see that the guy's entire neck was mapped in elaborate tattoos. And he had blonde hair and a dark colored beanie. The odor of stale cigarette smoke clung to the guy's clothes, pricking unpleasantly at Kyungsoo's nostrils. The light was pretty bad so he couldn't be sure but he might have seen a piercing on the guy's lip. Either way, Kyungsoo had seen enough to set his pulse racing and stomach clenching with suppressed fear.

He told himself firmly, DO NOT PANIC. HE IS NOT A TATTOOED PSYCHO WHO'S GOING TO ROB YOU AND LEAVE YOU FOR DEAD. Who was he trying to kid? Tattooed guy was totally a psycho who was going to rob him and leave him for dead and he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to his parents. He was so screwed. Adrenalin coursed through the muscles in his compact body and they tensed, readying themselves for flight. His eyes took in the surroundings and caught sight of the blue and pink neon sign across the road: Ace's Place. There were people inside the bar. Refuge! He had to somehow get to that bar.

As Kyungsoo's heels lifted off the ground and the rest of him prepared to follow, the stranger said, "You go to Garnier, don't you?" Kyungsoo knew he should have run but something about that quiet, chocolatey voice made him stay. Common sense and his mom's nagging voice told him he shouldn't be having a conversation with a tattooed stranger, but for reasons unknown to Kyungsoo himself, he stayed anyway.

"Yeah, I go to Garnier. Do you go there too?" Kyungsoo figured he had to be attending the same Visual and Performing Arts college.

"Art major."

"Oh. I'm in the vocal program. We um ... haven't met, have we?" Kyungsoo asked nervously as he tried not to stare at the intricate tattoos that adorned the back of the boy's hand. He gave a low chuckle and turned to look at Kyungsoo. He had a masculine jaw, sleepy eyes, and chiseled cheekbones, and everything just added up to make a dangerously attractive face. Kyungsoo was far too intrigued with the stranger's face for his own comfort.

"Hell, no. No, we haven't met. But I've seen you around." He had a lazy kind of drawl which appealed to Kyungsoo in the oddest kind of way.

"I'm Kyungsoo." Kyungsoo's natural friendliness came to the fore as he smiled and introduced himself - albeit a little nervously.

"Jongin." The boy gave a sort of quasi smile. Kyungsoo reckoned people like Jongin didn't really do proper smiles anyway because it wasn't a cool or badass thing to do. And then they were both quiet because - what was there to say, really? But the silence wasn't exactly uncomfortable. It was just ... silence, Kyungsoo thought. Now if only he could stop himself from asking stupid questions that could get him beaten up, or worse, killed.

"So how'd you ...?" Kyungsoo pointed at his own neck awkwardly and groaned inwardly. WHY DID HE ALWAYS ASK DUMB QUESTIONS AT THE DUMBEST TIMES?

"You mean the tatts?" Jongin looked surprised and then he laughed, "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that."

"I didn't mean to ask! I was thinking aloud and ... can I un-ask the question because it was rude and invasive and can we just pretend I didn't ask that, please?" Kyungsoo felt himself withering with embarrassment as his words came out in a panicked rush.

"I'm not going to hurt you, so just relax, ok?"

"I didn't say you were going to hurt me." Kyungsoo said quickly.

"You didn't have to." Jongin chuckled again. He seemed to find Kyungsoo deeply amusing. "I was 18 and stupid. My friends were all getting one so I got one too."

"But there's so much of it, why would you get such a big one if you were just getting it because of your friends? Were you in a gang? I'm doing it again ... Please ignore that last question. Sorry."

"No, it's ok. I wasn't. Wasn't in a gang, I mean. But we did do really dumb shit in school. As for the tattoo, well, you don't think things through nearly enough when you're 18. I really regretted it while I was getting it inked because it hurt like a bitch. And I had to go back a few times because well, my entire neck and my left arm."

"But what about your chest and back and your other arm?" Kyungsoo looked curious rather than judging and Jongin liked that. He liked it a lot. Never mind how surreal it was to be even discussing your tattoos with a complete stranger at a bus stop in the first place.

"I'd pretty much had enough of the pain by then. Plus, I ran out of money." There was that low chuckle again.

"I probably wouldn't even have made it past the letter E. I have zero tolerance for pain." Kyungsoo pointed at Jongin's finger tattoos which seemed to spell E-X-I-T in an angular calligraphy font.

"Endorphins kick in after a while and it doesn't hurt so much."

"The problem would be getting me to agree to even let anyone near me with a needle in the first place."

"Yeah ... You don't really look like the type to get tattoos." Jongin said and Kyungsoo laughed.

"No. No, I'm definitely not the type to get tattoos."

"So why are you out here so late? I've never seen you around here."

"Well, I would usually be on the way home by now but I missed the 9.30 bus. I help out at the community center on Carrington Street - with the singing classes."

"Does that pay well?"

"Nope. It's a community center - they can't afford to pay much. But I enjoy teaching. Oh God, that sounds so lame."

Before Jongin could respond, there was a sudden blast of noise as the bar doors swung open. Two tall, male bodies spilled out onto the sidewalk and Jongin smirked in recognition - it was Tao and Kris. The streetlights reflected dully off their spiky blonde hair as they staggered slightly along the sidewalk. They must have sculled something stronger than beer after he left. The two guys were walking past the alley when Kris unexpectedly ducked in, dragging Tao by the elbow.

"Oh." Kyungsoo made a little sound of surprise as their mouths fused together in a torrid kiss. It should have seemed sordid, a kiss between two guys in a dark alley ... and yet there was nothing seamy about it. It just seemed ardent. Passionate. Their mouths chased each other's and their hands ... Kyungsoo didn't want to know what their hands were doing and he quickly looked away, feeling ashamed of himself for intruding on such a private moment. The minute he looked away from the intimate encounter in the alley, his eyes met Jongin's. The other boy was watching him intently.

"I ... um. I wasn't expecting them to kiss. I didn't mean to watch." Kyungsoo groaned at his amazing ability to say the worst things at the worst times. Why couldn't he learn to just keep his mouth shut?

"They're my friends. Tao and Kris." Jongin had barely even seen his friends kiss - he'd been too captivated by the naked emotions chasing themselves across Kyungsoo's expressive face. Surprise. Wonder. Awe. Appreciation. And finally, embarrassment. What Jongin hadn't seen though, were signs of distaste or revulsion. And he liked Kyungsoo even more for it.

"I guess they're dating, huh?" Kyungsoo said a little self-consciously.

"Not when I left the bar ten minutes ago." Jongin said wryly as he pulled off his beanie and ruffled his golden yellow hair thoughtfully. "But they've been working up to it for months - I don't even know why it took them so long to get to this stage. Denial, I guess." Well, that was just another odd thing to be discussing with a stranger at a bus stop but Jongin wasn't even surprised anymore.

Kyungsoo watched surreptitiously as Jongin pulled the charcoal gray beanie back on and covered up most of his yellow blonde hair. Either way he looked at it, he found Jongin fascinating and that should have worried him because hello? Tattoos, piercings - and who even knew what other unseen piercings he had? And since when had he found tattoos attractive? Before he could beat himself up further though, Jongin asked him about his course and why he'd chosen the vocal stream and they chatted easily till the 9.50 bus approached the bus stop.

"Well, that's me."

"Me, too." Jongin lied. He didn't know which part of town he'd end up in and how the fuck he'd get home from there but he didn't much care at the moment. He just knew he wanted to spend more time with Kyungsoo and so he boarded a bus he shouldn't even have been on. It was late so there were many empty seats on the bus and Kyungsoo took a window seat - he always took a window seat if he could help it because he liked looking out at the world and imagining how people lived their lives. Jongin thought about asking if it was okay if he sat down next to Kyungsoo but in the end he just slid in casually beside him, their jean clad thighs almost touching. Taking up where they left off, Jongin and Kyungsoo talked about nothing and everything till they reached Kyungsoo's stop about fifteen minutes into the journey.

"Will you be at that bus stop next Thursday?"

"Yeah, sure I will. Every Thursday. But I usually take the 9.30 bus."

"Maybe I'll see you then?"

"I'd like that," Kyungsoo smiled at him as he got up. Jongin turned his body so his feet were planted in the aisle and Kyungsoo could squeeze past him. Kyungsoo's thighs brushed briefly against Jongin's left shoulder and the slight pressure felt ... nice. Nice was not a word that existed in Jongin's vocabulary but it seemed like the right word to use to describe the fleeting sensation of Kyungsoo's body in contact with his.

Jongin slid over to the window and looked out. Kyungsoo was just stepping off the bus and he turned left, inadvertently heading in the direction of Jongin's window. He soon caught sight of Jongin watching him through smudged glass, and he raised a hand to wave at him. Jongin held his hand up and, after a moment's hesitation, placed his palm against the glass. Kyungsoo stopped walking and just stared at him through the glass, a pensive expression on his face. Jongin stared back, his eyes intense and his lips unsmiling. And then the bus was moving, and for the second time that night, Kyungsoo watched as a set of tail lights floated into the distance, drifting further and further away from him.

Inside the bus, Jongin cursed quietly. Why did that boy affect him so deeply? He was the complete opposite of everything he knew and he ought to stay the hell away from him. There was something innately pure about Do Kyungsoo and he had no right messing around with his kind of wide-eyed innocence. But Jongin knew his heart - what was left of it anyway - had never been one for listening to his head and he hoped he wouldn't end up hurting the boy. It was the last thing he wanted. He really needed to stay away from him. Dragging his palm down his face tiredly, he reached for his cellphone and speed dialed 2.

"Kris are you guys still in that alley?"

"What the fuck, Jongin? What did you see?"

"Enough. So I kinda need a favor - can you pick me up? I'm sorta stranded." And Jongin held the phone away from his ear for a few seconds as Kris let out a string of expletives. Then, calmly, he told Kris where to rendezvous with him before moving the phone away from his ear again as Kris went on another tirade.

"Right, okay, thanks. So you'll come get me, right? I'll see you soon. Yes, yes, I know I owe you lunch and dinner for this. Dammit, Kris."

When he'd pocketed his phone, he looked through the glass pane before him - trying to concentrate on the dark shapes and multicolored lights of the night scape outside so he wouldn't see his own reflection, or ghost images of the boy who'd been sitting in the spot he now sat in.

 


	2. Intermezzo

_You hold me without touch_

 

Jongin blew out a snowy puffball of relief as Kris's Prussian blue 2006 Acura RSX rolled into sight. He had gotten off at the next stop from Kyungsoo's - a suburb called Epperton, which he'd never even heard of before today. Dressing for an evening at the bar, Jongin had left his house in faded jeans and a white Aeropostale flannel hoodie to keep out the cold from car to building, building to car. He had not dressed to keep out the chilly autumn night air for an extended period of time at an exposed bus stop. Desperate to keep warm, Jongin had taken to rubbing his hands vigorously and blowing on them, as well as jogging in place and jumping from time to time. Puffs of white mist swirled around his hands and face as he did his best to generate as much heat as possible. He couldn't believe he was freezing his ass off in late autumn in a strange location because of a boy he'd only met for the first time that night. He never did shit like that and yet, he felt not a grain of regret as he stuck his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and jumped.

When Kris's coupe had eventually cruised to a halt beside the bench where he sat, Jongin had climbed in the back as fast as he could. As his hands began thawing, he noted that both Kris and Tao seemed perfectly sober. All that staggering outside the bar earlier on had probably just been two guys out of balance because of want. Jongin felt quite off balance himself and he shook his head as if that would somehow empty out all visions of Kyungsoo's face staring up at him from the street. His eyes had been ... But Jongin never finished that thought as he forced himself back to the present.

"I thought you guys would never get here. I swear my dick and balls were about to turn blue from the cold."

"Explain to me again why I'm picking you up in some no-name suburb in the middle of the fucking night?" Kris raised a sardonic eyebrow at Jongin as he settled himself in the back seat.

"It's complicated."

"It's about a boy is what it is." Tao chuckled wickedly, his almond shaped eyes full of mischief as the moonlight glinted off the tiny silver hoops in his ears.

"I never said that."

"You're in a no-name suburb in the middle of the night. What else could it be?" Tao said wisely and Kris hummed in assent.

"Okay fine. It was about a boy."

"The question is which boy?"

"He's a vocal major at Garnier."

"That's not convincing me it was worth my time to drive all the way out here to get you." Kris's voice dripped with sarcasm as he kept his eyes on the road.

"We were talking at the bus stop across from Ace's. His bus came and I wasn't done talking so I got on with him. Except I don't normally take buses ... So I thought I should call you in case I ended up in the next state."

"Is that supposed to be funny? Because dude, it's really not." But Kris chuckled anyway.

"So who is this guy?" Tao leaned his upper arm against the back of his car seat and turned to look at Jongin. As always, Tao's eyes were shrewd and missed nothing.

"I saw him sing a couple of days ago. He was really good. And you guys were - whatever it was you were doing - flirting? Anyway, I was bored and I saw him across the road and decided to go talk to him. I was curious."

"I. Don't. Flirt." Kris's words were like cold stones dropping into water, one at a time. Jongin could've sworn he heard Tao snort surreptitiously but he wasn't going to call him out on it because he still needed Kris in a reasonably good mood till he got Jongin home.

"If you say so."

"You're never curious." Tao stated firmly as he gave Jongin a sharp look. "You are one of the most un-curious people I know."

"I don't think un-curious is a real word but yeah ... I don't know. There's something about Kyungsoo. I can't explain it."

"You must have dated three guys this year that you didn't give a shit about one way or the other. And suddenly a choirboy has got you curious? Are you in love, Kim Jongin?" Kris sounded sincerely intrigued, rather than mocking.

"I. Don't. Do. Love." This time it was Jongin's words that dropped like cold stones on still water. But deep inside, he was anything but calm. Everything was a tangle of confused emotions and all he saw was Kyungsoo. Quickly changing the subject before he ended up admitting to something he didn't want to admit to, Jongin asked, "So, you two were kissing in the alley huh?"

"We are not discussing that." Kris sounded adamant and Tao just gave Jongin an enigmatic smile that promised: I'll tell you later.

Fortunately they moved on to other things. Jongin pretended not to notice how Tao rested his fingers on the driver's seat so that they just touched the edge of Kris's thigh. Just like he pretended not to see Kris subtly move his thigh closer to Tao's hand. Just like he tried to pretend he wasn't haunted by the intensity of Kyungsoo's gaze and the faintest touch of yearning he'd seen in the other boy's beautiful eyes, as they'd watched each other through the almost clear glass of the bus window. Jongin pretended he felt nothing right till the moment his body surrendered to sleep.

\-------

"So I talked to this tattooed guy last night." Kyungsoo announced matter-of-factly and shifted safely out of the way as a mouthful of Gatorade Rain Berry arced from Minseok's mouth.

"You did what?!"

"Soo, I've told you a thousand times not to tell him stuff when he's drinking - you know how excitable he gets. He drenches everything in his path, I swear to God. Lucky you have the evasive maneuver down pat. I saw the way you moved out of his trajectory just before he let loose. Impressive." Luhan said admiringly and Kyungsoo laughed in response. Minseok and Luhan had been together for two years and they seemed to get a kick out of giving each other shit - but it was always done teasingly and seemed to strengthen their relationship. His cheeky comment earned him a hard punch in the arm from his boyfriend and an annoyed "Prick!".

"Who is this tattooed guy and why were you talking to him?" Minseok had sounded outraged earlier but now he just seemed worried.

"He goes here. He's an Art major."

"I don't care where he says he studies, Soo. What were you doing talking to him?"

"He had a tattoo sleeve and his neck was ... his neck was all inked too"

"Okay, telling me exactly how much of his surface area is covered in tattoos is NOT helping, Soo. Why are you starting up conversations with tattooed individuals in the first place and - wait, is he a gangbanger?!"

"Ah, no. I'm pretty sure he isn't. He was kinda cool actually. We just talked. I had a good time, Seok."

"I don't like it."

"Well, if he wanted to knife and rob me, he had twenty whole minutes to do it while we were sitting at the bus stop. But he just wanted to know why I picked the vocal program."

"Did he ask you for your number? Please tell me you gave him your number?" Luhan asked as he took another huge bite of his BLT.

"Don't encourage him!"

"No, I didn't. I wish I'd given it to him, though. He said he might see me at the bus stop next Thursday. I'm kinda looking forward to it."

"Don't do it, Soo." Minseok gave him a critical look. It wasn't that Minseok was really all that uptight and prejudiced. It was more that Kyungsoo was a little naive and overly trusting, while the guy Kyungsoo had described frankly sounded like an extra from 'Miami Ink'. It was a recipe for disaster and Minseok had always looked out for his best friend and he wasn't about to stop now.

"Don't do what? But I'm not doing anything. I need to get home after singing classes so it's not like I can decide not to take the bus. He said he might be there, that's all. What's wrong with that? He probably won't even show." Kyungsoo said calmly - trying not to think about how much he really wanted Jongin to show.

"Just don't do anything stupid, Soo, please?" Minseok sighed resignedly.

"Don't forget to give him your phone number, dude." Luhan offered helpfully before yelping as Minseok pinched his thigh. As Kyungsoo chuckled at his friends' antics, he hoped he'd really have a chance to give Jongin his phone number.

It was only half an hour later that Kyungsoo realized he'd indirectly said no to Minseok for the first time in years. A smile slowly settled on his face. Saying no without actually saying no? It kind of felt good.

What was not so good was the way Jongin's face kept appearing in his head whenever he had a quiet moment - when he was walking to a class, or sitting on the bus, or waiting for a lecture to start. He couldn't seem to get away from how lost Jongin had looked as he'd stared at him through the window -his palm and his long, elegant fingers pressed against the glass. He couldn't forget how lost he'd looked and he couldn't forget the longing he'd sensed as their eyes locked. He had to see him again. He had to know.

For the rest of Friday, and Monday, and Tuesday, he searched the corridors he routinely wandered for yellow blonde hair and neck tattoos ... and came up empty. On Monday evening, as he waited for the bus that would take him home, Kyungsoo carded his fingers through his hair and sighed. He really really wish he'd given Jongin his phone number.

\-------

Jongin napped intermittently through most of his lectures on Friday, which was nothing out of the ordinary for him on any given day of the week. He habitually strolled through the hallways like a sleepwalker. Eyes cast down, Jongin was usually completely indifferent to the faces and lives of the students who walked the hallways with him. But today, Jongin found himself scanning the crowds for Kyungsoo's face. No matter how hard he scoured the campus though, he found no traces of the angel-voiced boy that day, or on Monday. Frustrated, he berated himself mentally. Why hadn't he asked Kyungsoo for his phone number?

\-----

If Jongin wore a watch, he'd have been checking the ticking hands every few minutes. But he didn't wear a watch so he was reduced to looking up at the wall clock every ten minutes instead. And he didn't nap this lecture because he had to leave as soon as class was over. Not that he could have slept anyway - his muscles were buzzing, his senses alive. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt this involved about anyone or anything. Freshman year in high school maybe? And how was it he'd basically been a wreck the past few days because of an innocent choirboy? It was a little much for Jongin to process but whatever it was, he needed to see him at least one more time.

When the lecturer dismissed the session, he was one of the first to shoot off his seat - pushing past people to get to the door. Not caring what anyone else thought, Jongin jogged through a sea of annoyed 'hey!'s as he bumped into people without bothering to stop and apologize. He just mouthed the occasional 'sorry' in his quest to reach the first floor staircase. Running up the next four flights of stairs, dodging human obstacles as best he could, Jongin kept telling himself he would make it on time.

He stood outside the door and bent over, hands on his knees as he took tortured, deep breaths for a few seconds. When he'd finally stopped panting, he opened the door quietly and to his relief, the room was still empty. Just some stacked up chairs near the back wall, next to the stained glass window. The afternoon sun had painted the floor in bold, bright colors and there was nothing but silence in the room.

Jongin quickly ensconced himself in the back of the room so he would be tucked away out of sight. Then he waited. Kyungsoo had come in at 4.30 the week before and he had come in ten minutes earlier. According to the wall clock, he still had twenty minutes. It was just enough time, Jongin thought as he took out his sketch pad and let his fingertips skate slowly over the pale vanilla paper. It was something he always did before he began a new piece - a little ritual. He loved the smooth yet slightly grainy texture of the thick, drawing paper. And the action of touching the blank paper he would soon mark with pencil or ink or brush strokes, was an action that focused and centered him like nothing else could.

Pulling off his beanie and laying it in his lap, Jongin took a long, studied look at the window before his pencil began to fly ...

\-------

It had been a long day of lectures and Kyungsoo just wanted to go home and crawl into bed and never leave. But he had a 6pm lecture and one and a half hours to fill up, so he put his fantasies about his soft mattress and pillow on hold as he headed for the third floor practice room to rehearse for the Drama Club performance. If he was really lucky, the room with the stained glass panel might even be vacant.

Kyungsoo pushed the door open cautiously and was glad to find no one inside. He was setting up his music sheets on a cluster of desks near the window when he caught sight of a piece of heavy cream-colored paper sitting on the top of one of the folding desks. Intrigued, he picked it up carefully with both hands so the paper wouldn't dip in the center.

It was an exquisite pencil sketch of an angel - the angel in the stained glass window. And above the drawing had been written simply, in bold, black artistic strokes:

_For the boy who sings_

Kyungsoo felt his pulse quicken. Was he here? The person who had drawn the beautiful creation in his hands? His eyes traveled around the room but he couldn't see anyone. Then, as his eyes skimmed over the stacks of chairs at the back of the room, he saw the tip of a navy blue chuck. There were probably hundreds of kids on campus wearing navy blue chucks but the only pair he'd ever really noticed, were the ones Jongin wore.

Kyungsoo thought about whether he should go over and see him, because he really wanted to see him - oh how he wanted to see Jongin. But Jongin - if it was even Jongin - had chosen to leave him a drawing instead of saying 'hi' so maybe he didn't want Kyungsoo to know he was there. He'd just have to trust that Jongin would turn up at the bus stop on Thursday night. So he tamped down his desire to see the other boy. Forcefully gathering all his concentration, Kyungsoo poured it all into the one hour of singing he had ahead of him. Maybe it was because he thought Jongin was there watching him, but Kyungsoo hardly made any mistakes that day and his voice held even more emotion than it normally did as he closed his eyes and dreamed of tattoos and blonde hair and the boy in the bus window ...

\-------

A few minutes after Kyungsoo exited the room, Jongin got up from his hiding place. He'd stored his art supplies and was now shaking the fingers and wrist of his right hand - cramped from an hour and half of almost non-stop work. As he walked past the chairs where Kyungsoo had sung so beautifully, Jongin stopped in mid stride as he glimpsed a sheet of blue-lined note paper on one of the flip desks. His stomach in knots, Jongin picked it up and read the words written in a surprisingly untidy, spidery scrawl:

_For the boy who draws,_  
Thank you  
(617) 418-1418 

And then the quiet room was filled with the solitary sounds of Jongin's warm, throaty chuckle.

\-------

Kyungsoo hadn't seen any sign of Jongin since last Thursday and he hadn't gotten any texts on his phone either. He'd had his number for two days, why hadn't he messaged or called? Maybe it hadn't been Jongin in the room on Tuesday after all, he sighed dejectedly. Or maybe he hadn't seen the note he'd left? What if he wasn't at the bus stop? What if he never saw him again? And oh God, why was he acting like a lovesick schoolgirl?

Despite his scrambled thoughts and insecurities though, Kyungsoo stayed his course and kept planting his feet on the sidewalk. When the bus stop eventually came into view, he gasped softly as he saw a long, lean figure leaning against the clear, perspex wall of the bus shelter. The street lighting was dim, but Kyungsoo could easily make out the blonde hair and the intricate designs on the boy's neck.

"Hey." Jongin smiled.

"Hey." Kyungsoo answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying the fic! It would mean a lot to me if you leave a comment or kudo if you like the story <3


	3. Andante

_I lean against the wind_

_Pretend that I am weightless_

_And in this moment I am happy…happy_

 

[Words from  _[Wish](http://champagnelotus.tumblr.com/post/64074875172/chunk-of-change-incubus-wish-you-were-here) You Were Here _ by Incubus]

 

 

Jongin stared first at the piece of note paper on his bedside table, then at his phone screen. He'd saved the phone number twenty minutes earlier and its thorny presence in his phone was currently tormenting him. He wanted more than anything to call Kyungsoo and find out for himself what that husky voice would sound like right next to his ear. At the very least, he wanted to send Kyungsoo a message - even something as mundane as, "Hi, how was your day?" He just needed to be connected to - needed to just be with Kyungsoo somehow.

 

But if he used those messily scribbled numbers, he would be admitting he had sketched that angel, or at the very worst, Kyungsoo might discover he had been in the room watching him like some weirdo stalker. No, that wouldn't work. Besides he wasn't ready to reveal that he'd been in the room with Kyungsoo - he still had work to do. He hadn't used his Nikon DSLR in the practice room because the shutter noises would have been dangerously loud so he'd taken frames of Kyungsoo by the stained glass window with his phone cam on silent. He'd printed out the photographs earlier and they lay neatly fanned out over his work table. His parents weren't good for much but they did have money - which was why he had a large architect's work table in his massive 300 square foot bedroom.

 

They gave him a vast ocean of personal space so they would have less reason to bump into each other in their sprawling house in the upper middle class suburb of Springhaven. He'd realized by late childhood that his parents did not do intimacy - with each other, or with him. Jongin didn't know if he was entirely okay with the fact that his parents and him barely communicated, but he was used to it now after years of awkward hellos and goodnights and the most commonly heard: do you have enough money for school? Having no expectations helped. It helped a lot. They never fought. Sometimes he found himself wishing they did because that would mean he mattered to them one way or the other. But no one ever raised their voices in the Kim household. No one. Even when he'd come home after the first session at the tattooist, his neck red and livid and inflamed between the intricate angel wing designs, the only reaction he'd gotten was his mom calmly saying they could have it lasered off later on if it didn't suit.

 

He grimaced at the memory then spent another few minutes wrestling with himself before finally concluding that he wouldn't die if he waited till Thursday night to see Kyungsoo. Resolutely, he folded Kyungsoo's note in two and then four, and was about to put the note in the drawer when he decided at the last minute to slip it into his wallet. He refused to analyze why he wanted to carry that piece of paper around with him.

 

Carefully, he pinned the pictures on the cork board and spread out the drawing he'd been working on while Kyungsoo had sung lines about falling into someone's gravity. Turning on Incubus'  _Morning View_  album, Jongin felt his limbs decompress and his mind empty as the heavy guitar riffs and Brandon Boyd's slightly raspy vocals filled the quiet of the room. But then the song reached the part with the words:

 

_I lean against the wind_

_Pretend that I am weightless_

_And in this moment I am happy...happy_

 

_I wish you were here_

_I wish you were here._

 

And just like that, the blank canvas of Jongin's mind was flooded with images of a boy standing, bathed in crimson blue gold shadows ... Deciding not to fight the tide, Jongin readied his sketch pencils, and flipped open his sketch pad. His fingertips made contact with the ivory sheet which had already been filled with carefully administered pencil strokes that hinted at ethereal angels and a jewel-colored glass window. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Jongin sought his focus befoee opening his eyes. Then he exhaled loudly, reached for a graphite pencil and began sketching and blending while the sounds of Incubus played in the background ...

 

\------

 

He'd been waiting for almost ten minutes, but the cold wasn't bothering him as it had seven days before. Jongin had worn black denim jeans, the heavy fabric clinging subtly to his leanly muscled thighs, and a bulky black hoodie. He'd also donned a new-ish black leather jacket to keep out the autumnal chill - forgoing the battered brown one he usually used on nights like these. He checked his phone: 9:18 PM. Where was he? His muscles hummed with restless energy but Jongin forced himself to regain his usual stillness as he leaned against the wall of the bus stop. He was staring at the blurred shapes in Ace's bar window when he heard a soft, masculine gasp.

 

"Hey." Jongin forgot to be cool and just smiled, his eyes thirstily drinking in the sight of the boy he hadn't seen in two days. 

 

"Hey." Kyungsoo's eyes crinkled as he gifted Jongin with a warm smile. "You're here."

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

 

"You're taking the 9.30 bus as well?"  _Wow_. Kyungsoo berated himself for asking the totally obvious and totally unnecessary. Why couldn't he just be normal? And why was Jongin so attractive dressed all in black? The somber color only made his handsome features and tattoos look even more arresting and he looked so hot and ... and he could barely even make sentences anymore. 

 

"Um. About that ... I don't actually take the 9.30 bus. Actually I don't normally take any bus. I lied last week. I wanted to talk to you some more - that's why I got on. My friend had to pick me up from Epperton last week."

 

"I ... I don't really know what to say." And Kyungsoo really didn't. But his heart felt like a balloon that had been untethered, set free. Weightless.

 

"Say you'll let me give you a lift home so I don't get my ass kicked by Kris if I have to ask him to get me from Epperton again."

 

"You drove?" Kyungsoo's eyebrows climbed up in surprise.

 

"Not exactly." Jongin ran his fingers self-consciously over his sideburns before saying, "I came on my motorbike."

 

"I've never been on one." Kyungsoo really wanted to strangle himself at this point for being the most socially inept person ever.

 

"Is that a yes?" Jongin gave him a questioning look. Even in the dim lamplight, Kyungsoo looked vulnerable - eyes anxious and large in his pale, beautiful face. His fingers fidgeted agitatedly with the straps of his backpack.

 

"That depends." 

 

"On?"

 

"Whether you're an axe murderer who's going to kill me and dump my body in some abandoned warehouse. I can't believe I just said that. Just. kill. me. now." Kyungsoo groaned and cringed at his ability to always say the worst possible thing at the worst possible time.

 

"I'm not doing that." Jongin laughed, "And not everyone who has tattoos is a homicidal killer, I promise."

 

"Okay. I'll go with you. And sorry I was rude." Kyungsoo said sheepishly. He shut out his mother's voice as it nagged him at high octane levels inside his head: _Do not look at strangers. Do not talk to strangers. ABSOLUTELY DO NOT, I REPEAT do not accept rides from strangers._

 

"Do you need to go straight home? There's this place I go to sometimes. The Oriole Café. They've got great coffee and pot pies." 

 

"I'm actually ... really hungry." 

 

Jongin continued to watch him quietly, a half smile etched on his tanned face. Then he led Kyungsoo behind the bus stop where he'd parked his sleek, pearl white 2012 Yamaha EZ1. 

 

"It gets cold on the bike," he said simply as he handed a sea green, hooded wind cheater to Kyungsoo who mumbled thanks and began to remove his backpack. Jongin took the bag out of his hands so he could put the jacket on easily. 

 

"It's a little ... big." Kyungsoo chuckled, his fingers barely visible through the cuff as he slung his bag straps over his shoulders.

 

"It's the smallest one I own." Jongin said apologetically as he passed a black full face helmet to Kyungsoo. As the smaller boy was still struggling to pull up the sleeves of the jacket, Jongin quietly slipped the helmet carefully on Kyungsoo's head and reached for the safety strap. His fingers brushed the smooth skin of his chin briefly as he tightened the strap and Kyungsoo's eyes widened slightly in shock at the contact. He had been watching Jongin through the acrylic visor the entire time, like a moth drawn to candleflame.

 

The first time Jongin had seen those eyes, he'd known he wouldn't be able to withstand Kyungsoo's gaze. He only hoped the other boy never realized that he only had to ask, and Jongin would lay bare his soul. Abruptly breaking eye contact, Jongin put on his own helmet and swung his long legs elegantly over the gas tank and seated himself comfortably. Once Kyungsoo had settled in behind him, Jongin turned the ignition and the engine roared to life. Startled as the powerful motorcycle surged forward, Kyungsoo threw his arms around Jongin's waist instinctively in a panicked attempt to find his balance. Embarrassed, he removed his arms almost immediately - but then Jongin turned the corner and the motorbike dipped low, close to the ground. Overwhelmed by the sensation of falling, Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin's waist again to steady himself. He was so not built for riding on bikes he groaned inwardly as he began releasing his grip on Jongin and tried not to think about how good it had felt to hold on to him.

 

"Leave them!" Jongin shouted over the wind that was whooshing loudly in their ears and whipping around their bodies as they sped through the streets.

 

"What?!" 

 

"Your hands! Leave them." Jongin shouted as he placed his slightly cold left hand over Kyungsoo's own chilled ones, keeping them snug against Jongin's belly. Kyungsoo didn't answer. He just rested his cheek against the rider's hard, leather-sheathed back and held on tight, shamelessly clinging to his warmth.

 

\-----

 

"So how was it? Your first time on a bike?" Jongin eyed Kyungsoo curiously as the smaller boy pulled off his helmet, leaving his straight dark hair sticking at odd angles. Jongin had already flattened his blond hair with a few impatient pulls of the hand. 

 

"It was kinda awesome, Jongin. Thanks." Kyungsoo could barely contain his excitement as he gave him a full-fledged grin that made Jongin feel a little lightheaded. Once Kyungsoo had gotten over his initial trepidation and wrapped himself around the security of Jongin's body, he was able to let go and enjoy the exhilaration of hurtling through the night, and being almost at one with the elements. His body was still tingling from the rush he'd gotten as they'd charged against the wind with all the caged power of Jongin's motorcycle beneath them. But most of all, Kyungsoo's body was still buzzing from being pressed up against Jongin's for the entirety of the ride. 

 

"Your hair. It's um ... Don't move." Jongin said as he smoothed down a few wayward tufts on the back of Kyungsoo's head. The other boy held his breath as Jongin's fingers made butterfly sweeps across his scalp, eliciting whispering waves of sensation up and down the back of his ear and nape. When Jongin's hands finally dropped to his sides, his gaze rested on Kyungsoo's unwavering one and they just stared, unspeaking, at one another as the headlights of passing cars bathed them in harsh-white light.

 

"I guess we'd better go in then." Kyungsoo said awkwardly after a minute or two, still shaken to the core by the intensity of his physical reaction to Jongin's featherlight touches.

 

"Yeah." Jongin nodded and gestured for Kyungsoo to enter the café first. As they walked in, Kyungsoo vaguely registered the illustration of an oriole on the tastefully lit, cream colored sign that hung overhead. Just like the subtle sign outside the café, the interior was elegantly casual with rich, wooden panels and quaint wicker chairs. Kyungsoo sighed, almost in wonder, as he drank in the ambience. Pretty, peach marbled tabletops were adorned with clear glass tumblers cradled in antique brass holders, and white dessert dishes filled with delicate, petite pastries and light-as-air slices of cake. The occasional table surface was marred by coffee-colored liquid stains but other than that, the place was picture perfect. There was a comforting buzz as people chatted and laughed and just enjoyed the atmosphere. Kyungsoo couldn't remember ever being in a place like this. And he would never have imagined Jongin and his friends frequenting such a place. There were just so many concealed layers to Jongin and Kyungsoo wanted to peel them off slowly, one layer at a time. He wanted to deconstruct this puzzle of a boy more than anything and it was a need that was quickly turning into an obsession. He needed to stop. He should stop. 

 

"Do you come here with your friends? The ones I saw last week?"

 

"Kris and Tao? Hell no! They wouldn't be caught dead in this place," Jongin chuckled. "It's not exactly edgy, if you know what I mean. I always come here alone. When I need to think, or when I need to draw but my house is too quiet."

 

"Too quiet?"  _Yup, Soo, that's right - let's just completely disrespect the poor boy's right to privacy._

 

"Well ... my parents and I don't talk much. And sometimes the silence gets a bit much even when you've got the speakers way up high. Do you know what I mean?"

 

"I kind of do, I think. It gets too noisy in my house. I've got two older sisters who are really extroverted, and a mom who nags 24/7. The noise gets a bit much for my dad and me sometimes. So even when I've got my iPod up high - I can't even turn up my speakers because my mom will bang on the door and make me turn them down. Yeah, so sometimes my iPod is on maximum volume and the house is still too loud. So I think I know what you mean. It kind of sounds like the total opposite of your house being too quiet but it's kind of actually the same thing. You're in your own home but you feel like you can't breathe - does that make sense? I'm sorry, I'm rambling. Oh my God, please just stop me next time because I always have a tendency to get carried away."

 

"Why would I stop you? I like ... hearing you talk. I like your voice. And that's exactly how I feel in my house sometimes - like I can't breathe. That's why I like to come here, I think. Because it's not exactly quiet but it's just quiet enough." Jongin knew he shouldn't have looked into Kyungsoo's eyes when he was talking about his home because now he could feel all his secrets threatening to spill from his tongue like dandelion seeds in the summer breeze, floating helplessly towards Kyungsoo's waiting ears.

 

"You like my voice?" Kyungsoo wore that same pensive expression he'd had as he'd stared at Jongin through the bus window. Thoughtful with just a touch of yearning.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I do. It calms me and ... I don't even know. I'm not real good with words." He looked almost sheepish as he admitted it.

 

"I should sing for you one day." Kyungsoo grinned mischievously.

 

"I'd really like that." Jongin's smile reached his eyes and Kyungsoo felt a warm kind of ache in his chest which he didn't want to be feeling.

 

Over steaming cups of coffee, and piping hot chicken pot pies with flaky crusts that hung over fat white bowls, they talked about all kinds of things, including the kinds of music they liked. Jongin took short sips of his austere, unsweetened espresso while Kyungsoo took long sips of his sweetish vanilla latte. Even their taste in coffee was so diverse, Kyungsoo observed. This seemed to apply to music as well for Kyungsoo's taste leaned more towards R&B and alternative pop, whereas Jongin was into various genres of rock music. They didn't find much common ground, but Kyungsoo didn't mind and eagerly soaked up all the information Jongin shared about the bands he liked. A whole plethora of strange and wonderful band names flowed over Kyungsoo's consciousness without taking permanent hold, but a few names stuck - names like Linkin Park (because who hadn't heard of Linkin Park?), Korn (because who had ever heard of a rock singer who could play the bagpipes) and Incubus (because who could forget a band named after a demon that had sex with sleeping women?). Jongin talked animatedly about the kind of music that called to him, and completely forgot to be a reserved, cool-as-anything badass ... and Kyungsoo was utterly captivated by the boy with the tattoos who sat across from him. As he listened to Jongin, the germ of an idea began to form in Kyungsoo's head; he would need to do research into the bands Jongin liked, but for now he could narrow things down.

 

"Favorite song!" Kyungsoo said suddenly and Jongin's index finger stroked the angel wing tattoo on the left side of his neck as he contemplated the answer. Finally, after a few seconds of deep thought, he said, " _Wish You Were Here_. Incubus."

 

"I've ... never ever heard that."

 

"It's a great song - the words ... they mean something to me. I'll let you listen to it later, if you want. What's your favorite song?" Jongin asked.

 

"I'm sure you've never heard it. It's  _Gravity_  by Sara Bareilles." Kyungsoo said, watching Jongin's face carefully.

 

"I ... might have heard that before." Jongin tried to sound casual but he had visibly lost some of his composure. That made Kyungsoo glad because it told him that lies didn't come easily to Jongin. Kyungsoo was glad that they didn't.

 

It seemed only natural that the conversation would eventually turn towards the origins of Jongin's tattoos. Kyungsoo had asked him point blank why he'd had angel wings tattooed onto his neck.

 

"I've always liked angels. And the thing I like best about angels is their wings - the fact that they have the power of flight ... that they aren't tied down, aren't earthbound. That they can free fall. If angels existed anyway."

 

"I believe angels exist." Kyungsoo said earnestly.

 

"Do you really believe that?" Jongin looked at him skeptically, brushing his blond hair off his forehead before letting it cascade messily down again.

 

"I do." Kyungsoo said mysteriously. And before Jongin could ask anything more on the subject, he asked, "Why is your hair blond? I mean not that it looks bad or anything but why blond?" Amused, husky laughter bubbled out of Jongin's mouth.

 

"You sure ask a lot of questions, Kyungsoo."

 

"I'm sorry! It's just it's been bugging me for a whole week. I had to ask or else it would have bothered me for another week, I swear. But you don't have to answer or anything if you don't want to." Kyungsoo added quickly.

 

"It was Tao's fault. We made this stupid bet. A few weeks ago, they were having a tequila shot promo at Ace's. We were bored so Kris decided that we'd do a challenge. Last man standing got to give the other two penalties. Kris had to shave all the hair off his legs and I had to dye my hair blond. I was so pissed off. But I think Kris may have been even more pissed than me though." Jongin laughed again.

 

"Well, it suits you. You um ... look good with blond hair." Suddenly feeling embarrassed for blurting that out, Kyungsoo swiftly changed the topic, "What about the tattoos on your fingers? Why EXIT?"

 

"More questions!" Jongin gave a low, throaty chuckle that did things to Kyungsoo's insides. "I was trying to think of something clever when I was at the studio and I was drawing blanks. Then I looked up and saw the green exit sign at the back of the studio and thought why not?"

 

"That's all? There's no super secret inspirational reason behind it?" Kyungsoo sounded and looked disappointed. 

 

"I'm sorry but no. I wish there was now. Don't be sad." Jongin gave a wry teasing smile - so different from that not-quite smile he'd given him that first time at the bus stop. 

 

"You'll have to make up for it. Tell me something you've never told a single soul."

 

"Hey! You can't expect me to do that." 

 

"Okay fine, I'll let you off easy this time. I mean not that I'm assuming that there'll be another time. I mean ... Argh. Can the floor just open and swallow me up, please?"

 

"Strawberries." Jongin barely got the word out as his face lit up with mirth, and the most beautiful laughter lines Kyungsoo had ever seen, appeared beside his eyes. He looked so much younger when he wasn't looking all serious and cool.

 

"Strawberries?" 

 

"Strawberries are my favorite fruit. You are the only soul I've ever told."

 

"I was hoping for something a little more dramatic like you stole a library book or had a crush on your ninth grade teacher ... but ... I'll take it. Strawberries. Okay."

 

"And there will be another time."

 

"What?"

 

"You can ask me for another secret I've never told a single soul the next time we meet."

 

"Oh." Kyungsoo just stared at Jongin before saying, in a semi-daze, "Kiwifruit."

 

"Is ...? Your favorite fruit?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Okay." Jongin felt a little silly because he was pretty sure he hadn't smiled and laughed this much since he was in grade school, and yet here he was smiling again. Silly. Kyungsoo made him silly. He just couldn't figure out why he didn't mind.

 

"Favorite movie!" Like a flash of quicksilver, they were back to Q&A mode.

 

" _The Departed_." 

 

"That was so depressing though, Jongin." Kyungsoo shook his head disapprovingly. 

 

"Shush. It was a brilliant movie. What's your favorite?" 

 

" _Inception_  for sure."

 

"Confusing."

 

"That's what I like best about it, though. I like puzzles and figuring out how they work. We'll have to watch that together one day - then we can discuss the confusing parts."

 

"I'm in." Jongin smiled and he didn't even care anymore that he was smiling too much.

 

They talked far into the night and Kyungsoo was glad he didn't have lectures in the morning because figuring out Kim Jongin had just become the most significant thing in his life right now. 

 

\------

 

"I had a really good time." Kyungsoo said as he handed the borrowed helmet back to the other boy, his fingers grazing Jongin's long, slender ones accidentally on purpose.

 

"Me too. And look! I didn't even dump your dead body in an abandoned warehouse." Jongin rolled his eyes and Kyungsoo laughed. They were standing on the sidewalk in front of Kyungsoo's two-story house in the middle class suburb of Geraldton. As Jongin shifted his feet and moved his head slightly, the light from the street lamps threw his lip piercing into sharp relief. Kyungsoo's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the piece of fine, curved metal emerging from Jongin's skin. Actually he had been staring at it for most of the night, yet he had somehow shied away from asking the other boy about it. But now, now he needed to ask. Gently, tentatively, Kyungsoo touched the piercing, "Does it hurt?"

 

"It hurt like a bitc- I mean it hurt like hell when I first had it done. But that was pretty much it."

 

"It's ok, you know, to swear in front of me. My friends do it all the time. I even swear myself ... well, once in a while anyway. What's this called and why is it black? Shouldn't it be silver?" His fingertip traced the dark metal piercing that protruded from the left corner of Jongin's lips, and Jongin had to stop himself from grabbing Kyungsoo's hand to make him stop. His lips and the equally sensitive skin around his mouth were tingling in anticipation from Kyungsoo's gentle explorations.

 

"It's a circular barbell, and it's black because it's titanium."

 

"I've never seen a barbell that small." Kyungsoo said wonderingly and Jongin was about to make some sarcastic remark about it not being that kind of barbell but then Kyungsoo's finger was touching the piercing and the skin surrounding it and Jongin found he couldn't breathe.

 

"You shouldn't do that."

 

"Why not?"

 

"It's ... It makes me want to kiss you."

 

"Why don't you?"

 

"Excuse me?" Jongin's voice and eyes were filled with bewilderment.

 

"Why don't you kiss me? I'd really like you to, Jongin."

 

"What?" Then, as Jongin struggled to overcome his shock and say something more intelligent than 'what?', Kyungsoo reached up and covered his lips with his own in a kiss that was chaste but sure. In the past, kissing had been something Jongin tolerated more than enjoyed. It was an act he found too personal and he'd always avoided it as far as he could. But unlike the kisses in the past, Kyungsoo's kiss had left him wanting more.

 

"Kyungsoo?" Every cell in Jongin's body was urging him to take the other boy in his arms and kiss him but he just kept very still - waiting for Kyungsoo to decide what happened next. 

 

"You have a cleft, Jongin. There's a cleft on your chin." Kyungsoo said in wonder; and his fingertip caressed its contours just before he stood on tiptoe, wrapped his arm around Jongin's nape and pulled him towards him. Their eyes closed just a fraction of a second before their lips met in a searing kiss that set their pulses racing and hearts soaring. Jongin's palm rested on Kyungsoo's waist and drew him closer still as he deepened their kiss and whispered, "I never expected this ..."

 

"Neither did I." Kyungsoo chuckled between kisses. "But I need to go in soon because my mom is a light sleeper and she's really nosey. I really don't want her to see us kissing. She'll start switching the porch light on and off and then when I finally get in, she'll interrogate me for at least twenty minutes and I just can't right now."

 

"Okay." The one word answer was all Jongin could manage right now as he struggled with everything he was feeling - everything he didn't want to be feeling.

 

"But maybe," Kyungsoo moved into Jongin's personal space and said shyly, "Just one more." Then he initiated one last kiss which left Jongin more than a little shaken. As Kyungsoo was turning to go, Jongin shoved his pride aside, grabbed his elbow, and asked for his phone number. He wasn't a fool. He wasn't going to wait till next Thursday to be with Kyungsoo again. After they'd exchanged numbers, Kyungsoo squeezed Jongin's hand and wistfully, he said he really had to go. Jongin nodded quietly - trying his best not to look too disappointed. Kyungsoo was halfway across the lawn before he stopped and turned around. Giving Jongin an enigmatic smile, he said,"It's cold."

 

"Cold?"

 

"Your piercing. It feels cold. I like it." Kyungsoo grinned then continued his journey to the front door of his house while Jongin stood there and watched him go - at a complete and utter loss for words.

 

 


	4. Impromptu

_Impromptu - A short piano piece, often improvisational and intimate in character._

 

Kyungsoo was almost at the edge of his front lawn before he realized he was still enveloped in the warmth of Jongin's sea green windcheater. To return or not to return? Do Kyungsoo usually did the right thing and returned things that didn't belong to him right away but today he would rebel and say nothing so he could keep that wind cheater for at least one night. What he actually planned on doing with it, Kyungsoo had no idea; all he knew was that he wanted to hang on to Jongin's jacket just a little longer. When he reached the front door of the Do family home, he turned around to take one last look at Jongin, who was still rooted to the same spot as he watched Kyungsoo quietly. Kyungsoo smiled at him while Jongin continued to gaze at him, his expression intense and serious. _Perhaps he was regretting the kiss_ , Kyungsoo thought to himself, worried. But there was nothing he could do about that - he would never regret kissing Jongin. Giving the tattooed boy a final glance and a loudly hissed "GO!", Kyungsoo quickly entered the house so Jongin would leave before his mom descended like the Angel of Death.

Kyungsoo breathed a sigh of relief as he made it to his room unaccosted. Hoping that he would be able to catch at least one last glimpse of Jongin, he parted his curtain only to see Jongin speed off into the night, and waves of disappointment coiled and uncoiled through him. Making a frustrated noise, he flopped on his bed before reaching for Jongin's wind cheater and taking a whiff. He could smell his own lemony soap smell on the inside, but the outer shell of the jacket was permeated with traces of smoky vanilla and something he couldn't quite define. His senses had been filled with that scent when he'd daringly kissed Jongin just minutes ago. He still couldn't believe he'd done it - just pulled him in and kissed him. And it had felt so good to have Jongin’s arms encircle him and drag him closer … to feel his skin beneath his lips.

Kyungsoo wasn't a complete innocent. He'd had two boyfriends in the past, but he'd never been the one to make the first move - he hadn't wanted it enough. But Jongin made him feel all kinds of things he hadn't felt before - and only a small number of these things had anything to do with Jongin looking dangerous and unlike anyone Kyungsoo had ever known. Instinctually, Kyungsoo knew that if Jongin asked him out again, he would say yes without a moment's hesitation. His mom would likely have a stroke if she ever saw Jongin's tattoos and piercing, and Kyungsoo himself would likely get his heart broken, but he couldn't find it in himself to even care. Broken hearts could heal. He wouldn't miss out on a chance to spend time with Jongin if another invitation arose. Almost defiantly, he breathed in Jongin's edgy fragrance and made a vow to smell it up close again – on the smooth planes of Jongin’s skin rather than nestled in the fibres of fabric.

\----

After Kyungsoo's shower, he turned down the covers he’d neatly tucked in that morning and propped up his pillows before settling in. He considered going to bed or reading a book but he was just too wired. Eventually, he reached for his phone and scrolled through ‘K’ in his contacts until he found the name he wanted.

Kyungsoo: Jongin, what fragrance do you use?  
Jongin: Bulgari Black. Why are we talking about my fragrance?  
Kyungsoo: Just curious. Is it the only fragrance you use?  
Jongin: Yes! LOL. Why?  
Kyungsoo: Just curious.  
Jongin: ???  
Kyungsoo: I need to return your jacket.  
Jongin: Keep it.  
Kyungsoo: But you'll need it. Weather's getting colder.  
Jongin: Keep it.  
Kyungsoo: It's too big?  
Jongin: Keep it anyway.  
Kyungsoo: You're very ... persistent.  
Jongin: Keep it.  
Kyungsoo: LOL. Ok fine.  
Jongin: What are you doing now?  
Kyungsoo: Sitting in bed in my pjs?  
Jongin: You wear pjs?! With buttons and a collar and shit?!  
Kyungsoo: So what if I do? >_<  
Jongin: So you do?  
Kyungsoo: NO! Just track pants and a sweatshirt. Sigh. What do you usually wear to sleep?  
Jongin: Plaid pj pants and long sleeved tee. Acceptable?  
Kyungsoo: You wear pj pants? But you made it sound like the dorkiest thing possible to do!  
Jongin: Well if there are button down collared shirts involved, pjs ARE the dorkiest thing possible.  
Kyungsoo: Oh, in that case, I wear striped pj pants sometimes.  
Jongin: Me too. Lol.  
Kyungsoo: -_-  
Jongin: What does that even mean?!  
Kyungsoo: It means I'm annoyed! How can you not know that?  
Jongin: Um ... I don't do emoticons.  
Kyungsoo: Who the hell doesn't do emoticons?  
Jongin: Me. Are you busy right now? Can I call you?  
Kyungsoo: Yes!  
Jongin: Yes you're busy? Or yes I can call you?  
Kyungsoo: Call me!

Kyungsoo kicked himself as he waited for his phone to ring - how desperate did he just make himself look?! As Jongin's name and number started flashing on his screen, all thoughts of looking stupid and desperate dissolved as Jongin's husky voice filled Kyungsoo's ears.

"Hey."

"Hey."

And then they were talking again as if they hadn't already spoken for hours earlier in the night.

\----

"You don't look so good." Jongin said bluntly as Tao sat down next to him at lunchtime, in their usual spot under the jacaranda tree, near the Fine Arts Library. Jongin felt groggy himself because he'd been on the phone with Kyungsoo till 2 am, but Tao really looked wretched. The tall Chinese boy was bleary eyed and his dark circles were even more pronounced than usual – it was like he had barely slept if at all.

"I don't feel too good." He said simply.

"What happened?" Jongin didn't usually like to get involved but Tao looked like he might want to talk.

"My parents found out about Kris and me and ... well, to say they weren't happy is putting things mildly." Tao pulled his hand through his hair in a frustrated motion, "They basically threw me out after saying a lot of crap I didn't really need to hear." Jongin tried not to know too much about what went on with his best friends' personal lives, but he knew enough to remember that Tao's parents hadn't been supportive of his attending Garnier. They'd wanted him to do something "respectable" like engineering or business, but Tao's creativity couldn't be tamped down and when he'd earned a scholarship to do Design Technology, his parents had reluctantly agreed. But they were constantly reminding him that it wouldn’t lead to a real career - not one that could pay his bills on the regular, and he'd better not expect them to pay his bills for him when he couldn't find a job later on. Hearing about Tao’s mom and dad almost made Jongin appreciate his mostly absent parents. Almost.

"Do you have somewhere to stay? You can crash with me - my parents don't give a fuck what I do, anyway. I’m sure they won’t even notice if you move in."

"Nah, it's cool. I just packed what I could last night, and Kris picked me up from the 7-eleven near my place. I'm staying with him for now. Longer, I hope."

"So things with you and Kris ... are they serious?"

"You can't tell?"

"I know you guys have been kinda flirting with each other for months so I know there's chemistry but ... what about all the other stuff?"

" _Stuff_? Jongin, emotions aren't _stuff_. And yes the emotions are real and Kris and I aren't just in it for the chemistry. Jesus, Jongin. Stuff?!"

"I'm ... not good with words, Tao. I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know." Tao patted Jongin's shoulder tiredly. "Kris is taking me to buy supplies later. Toiletries. And the queen size comforter was a bit of a squeeze for us last night, so he said we’re gonna go get a king size one when he gets off work." He reached inside his pocket as his phone started buzzing.

"Yeah. Classes end at 4 today. Ok, I'll wait in front of Howarth Pharmacy at 5.30 ... No, my parents haven't been in touch. Yeah ... I'll see you later, Kris. Bye. Yeah, I'm okay. Yes, I'm sure. Stop fussing. I'm fine. For real. Later, 'kay?"

Jongin watched the whole interchange thoughtfully. So this was how it was with Tao and Kris. This was what it was like when two people loved each other and wanted to make a life together. As Tao nodded and smiled from time to time, his laughter lines showing when he gave the occasional warm laugh, Jongin's heart thawed just a fraction more. The sunlight tickled at his skin as he closed his eyes and lay back on the sun-dappled grass. Jongin’s mind swam with images of the boy by the stained glass window and the way his lips had felt beneath his, and the way his smooth pale skin had felt cupped in his palms. They'd made plans to go out on Saturday night and the corners of Jongin's mouth lifted at the prospect of seeing Kyungsoo again.

\-----

“Father, have you got a minute?” Jongin knocked on the half-open door of his father’s study. Kim Dae Gun was a distant man with cold, unyielding features and Jongin always dreaded their awkward exchanges.

“Sure. I can spare a minute. What can I do for you, son?” he laid a sheaf of documents on the desk, and steepled his fingers as Jongin sat down uncomfortably on the leather bound chair opposite.

“There’s going to be an exhibition at the college from the 5th to the 19th of January. Three of my pieces were selected and I wondered … maybe Mother and you could …”

“Attend? You know your mother and I don’t attend such events. But I’m proud of your achievement. Let me write you a cheque – you should get something nice for yourself. Maybe a new suit for the opening?”

“I don’t need a suit.” Jongin’s voice was terse but he wasn’t sure his father had even noticed as his eyes were already straying to the papers on his desk. Clearly, the ‘interview’ was over. His parents never had actual conversations with him – they held formal interviews and briefings.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. And don’t forget to buy something nice.” His father slid a rectangular sheet of thick paper across the polished mahogany surface.

“I don’t need a suit … Sir.” Jongin turned and left the room without taking the cheque.

\-----

He left the house and went out onto the dim, back patio and sat on one of the claw-footed, wrought iron chairs. Fingers trembling with the blunt edges of unexpressed rage, Jongin lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, watching the paper burn as he blew out a long, agitated stream of white smoke. As he watched the slow burn of the luminous orange ember and made inhalation after inhalation, Jongin tried to recapture the mind emptying numbness that usually chased a nicotine high but tonight ... tonight, the release he sought eluded him. And all he was left with was the unpleasant bitter-sour aftertaste of tobacco on his tongue, and a hollow ache in his chest at his non-confrontation with his father.

Eventually, he let go of the still smoking cigarette and stubbed it out with his shoe. He reached for another Marlboro Light before flipping open the cover of his brushed chrome Zippo lighter in a smooth, one-handed movement. There was a comforting metallic snick just before the bluish-amber flame burst into life. But the second cigarette offered as little comfort as the first and Jongin abandoned it halfway - extinguishing the smoldering stick viciously with the toe of his Chucks before heading back into the house.

Jongin lay on his bed and stared up at the plain white ceiling, trying to paint all that white over the images of his father’s indifferent expression - images that kept replaying in his head. But that didn’t work either. His mind wouldn’t empty and his heart refused to go numb. After a few minutes of indecision, he picked up the phone to call Kyungsoo. But as he was about to press CALL, he was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to see him and have him nearby. Instinctively, Jongin knew that hearing only his calming voice wouldn't be nearly enough. Grabbing his brown leather jacket because he wanted the extra comfort tonight, Jongin pocketed his keys and left his room - a cloud of frustration clinging closely to him.

\------

Jongin looked up at the narrow rectangles of blurred golden light. He dragged a palm over his face, how to figure out which one was Kyungsoo's window? He knew his room faced the street because Kyungsoo had said that in spring, he had a nice view of the watery pink blossoms that grew on his neighbor's cherry tree across the street. But there were two lit windows - which one? One window was obscured by floral curtains that didn't look like Kyungsoo's style at all, while the other window was draped in plain fabric. He was being an idiot. He should just call Kyungsoo but some perverse streak stopped him from resolving things in what was clearly the most logical way. He bent over to pick up some gravel from the sidewalk, walked up to the ground floor window and began flinging pebbles at the glass window ten feet overhead.

\------

Kyungsoo was sitting in bed, memorizing the unfamiliar lyrics of an unfamiliar song - repeating them under his breath. He'd been listening to the song on his iPod for most of the day and knew the melody well by now.

" _The world's a roller coaster and I am not strapped in_ ," Kyungsoo let the words roll over his tongue before a worried frown settled over his face. Jongin had said the words of his favorite song meant a lot to him and those lines made Kyungsoo feel anxious. But before he could dwell any further on it, he heard rattling sounds.

_Thack. Thack. Thack._

Small projectiles were hitting his ... window? Cautiously, he pulled back the sand-colored curtains and looked out to see a lone figure standing on the lawn beneath his window. Faded jeans and a black t-shirt with a man's face printed on it. Chucks. A brown leather jacket. Tousled blonde hair.

"Jongin?" Kyungsoo hissed from the open window.

"Come out with me?"

"Why didn't you just call?" Kyungsoo looked bewildered as he eased his head and shoulders out.

"Pebbles seemed like a good idea at the time." Jongin shrugged and Kyungsoo laughed, shaking his head. "Will you come?" Jongin asked again.

"I'll need to change-"

"Don't bother, just come down now?" Jongin's eyes looked troubled.

"Ok." Kyungsoo nodded before shutting the window. He took a harried look at his high school sweatshirt and charcoal gray track pants and sighed. He definitely wouldn't be winning any sartorial awards any time soon but he didn't think Jongin would care. The sea green wind cheater was hanging from a hook on his door and Kyungsoo pulled it on just as he was leaving the room.

\-----

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo said tentatively as he approached him. “Is everything, ok?”

“Not really. But I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” Jongin grimaced. Then he felt warm fingers wrap around his own and he felt some of the stress drain away a little. “Sorry I just showed up like that.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you did.” Kyungsoo chuckled, “Besides, I kinda like riding on the back of your motorbike. It’s quite a rush.”

“Let’s go, then.” Jongin gave him a half smile as he fitted the helmet over Kyungsoo’s head in the same way he’d done the night before. Once Kyungsoo was settled in behind him, Jongin let the motorbike cruise silently to the end of the street before he revved the engine.

“Don’t wanna wake up your mom,” he turned to say and Kyungsoo’s molasses laugh rang comfortingly in his ears before the motorbike started knifing forward. As the wind's whip-like fingers lashed at Jongin's body, and Kyungsoo's arms and chest moulded themselves to Jongin's waist and back, Jongin finally found the emotional release he'd been searching for all night.

\-----

After driving around aimlessly for fifteen minutes, they found themselves sitting together on a wooden bench in Belleview Park. The branches of the nearby oak trees swayed a little in the October night breeze. The leaves were a tawny red and gold and russet during the day but now they just looked like they'd been dipped in brushstrokes of aubergine and bruised purple.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kyungsoo took Jongin's left hand and let their entwined hands rest on his thigh.

“No.” Jongin tightened his fingers around Kyungsoo’s much smaller ones.

"Ok. But you owe me a secret. You said you'd tell me one the next time you saw me. And it had better be something more exciting than strawberries," Kyungsoo used the most disarming smile he had in his arsenal to distract Jongin from whatever was bothering him.

"What?!" Jongin gave a wholehearted laugh at that before suddenly going quiet and gathering Kyungsoo in his arms. "Thanks for coming out here with me, no questions asked." Jongin rested his chin against Kyungsoo's shoulder, his hand curled around his slender nape.

"But I did ask. You just didn't answer." Kyungsoo smiled into Jongin's shoulder.

"That's true."

"Can I ...?" Kyungsoo straightened and gestured at Jongin's neck. And Jongin who didn't really like people touching him, took Kyungsoo's hand and placed it on his painted skin.

"It's smooth." Kyungsoo sounded almost surprised. He'd kissed Jongin the night before but his hands had been looped behind his neck - he'd managed to examine the piercing on Jongin's lip but he hadn't had a chance to explore his tattooed skin.

"Did you expect it to be all scaly?" Jongin chuckled.

"But needles?"

"They only inject the ink into the skin, Kyungsoo. They don't actually cut up your skin enough to scar it. It's like a thousand pinpricks and pinpricks heal and then your skin is back to normal, just different because you've had stories marked into them."

"I thought you said you weren't good with words," Kyungsoo complained as his fingers traced the patterns of angel wings. Frissons of pleasure traveled up and down Jongin's skin as Kyungsoo continued his gentle explorations, and he was about to move away before the sensations got to be too much, when he felt Kyungsoo's lips touch his neck.

"It's beautiful." Kyungsoo whispered just before he reached up and kissed his cheek. He had never been so forward in his life but if this turned out to be the last time he ever saw Jongin, Kyungsoo was determined to make it count. This was the thought going through his head as his lips engulfed Jongin's in a passionate kiss that enflamed their hearts and souls, and set their skin afire. Several kisses later, as Jongin held Kyungsoo in his arms, he said mysteriously, "Lightning."

"Lightning? Bugs? Bolts?" Kyungsoo was perplexed.

"When there's a really bad storm and the wind is howling, lightning scares me."

"If there's no strong wind?"

"I'm ok if it's just lightning and rain. It's the wind that sets me off. Growing up, I had to go to camp every summer till I was 15 - my parents don't really do kids. And the summer I was 12, that camp, we went on a hike up the mountains. But I got separated from the rest. When the storm blew in, I was on my own, wet and miserable and lost. The wind was so loud and the lightning just lit up the sky and luckily I found a cave to hide out in. But I never really got over it."

"Oh, Jongin. I ... thanks for trusting me enough to tell me." Kyungsoo squeezed Jongin's hand.

"So now that's two secrets you know about me. I reckon you owe me two secrets you've never told a soul."

"Do you want me to tell you one now?"

"No. The next time we meet, you can tell me one."

"The next time, huh?" Kyungsoo grinned.

"Shhh ..." Jongin said as he closed his eyes and leaned in, and his lips fit tenderly over Kyungsoo's ...

 

_Definition of impromptu ... Source: http://www.enjoythemusic.com_


	5. Nocturne

_noc•turne noun \ˈnäk-ˌtərn\_ : a piece of music especially for the piano that has a soft and somewhat sad melody, which is inspired by or evocative of the night.

 

Kyungsoo and Jongin sat in the park till almost 1am, thighs and shoulders pressed together, fingers interlaced, as they filled in some of the blanks about each other's lives. It was quiet, so quiet, and the only sounds were the dips, highs and lows of their husky voices and the metallic chirps of the last of the field crickets. Soon the weather would be too cold for any kind of insect music. Jongin's left arm was slung over Kyungsoo's shoulders in a way which he told himself wasn't possessive, but felt a lot like it anyway.

“It’s getting late. I guess I should be getting home.” Kyungsoo said, his voice laced with notes of regret.

“Can you stay out a little longer?” Jongin didn’t say ‘with me’, but he could feel the words echoing painfully in his chest.

“Maybe just a little bit longer, but it’s Saturday tomorrow - I have choir practice at 9 am and when I get less than 7 hours sleep, my voice gets messed up. I’m in the Garnier Choral Society, did I tell you?”

"No, but I should have known you'd be a choirboy," Jongin said teasingly.

"Don't make it sound like something bad," Kyungsoo glared at him.

"I'm not, I swear. It's just you're a vocal major. It's not too much of a stretch to assume you'd be in the choral society."

"I don't like the word choirboy though. It makes me feel like I should be wearing flowing white robes and acting all pure and innocent, with a gleaming halo over my head. That's not who I am."

"Um ... I think from the number of times you've kissed me, I've pretty much figured that out." Jongin chuckled, the laugh so deep and low in his throat that curls of heat began to stir in Kyungsoo's belly.

"I'm not impure either." Kyungsoo grumbled, stretching his legs out and staring at his feet.

"I never said that you were." Jongin said just before he kissed Kyungsoo tenderly in the place where his jaw met the pale, slender lines of his neck. Kyungsoo turned to face him - his expression intense as he leaned forward and caught Jongin's lips with his own. The chill air of the night nipped at their cheeks and nose but all they noticed was the warmth as they explored each other's mouths, tongues flirting and teasing, and arms holding each other close.

Eventually, it was Jongin who pulled away. If it had been anyone else, there would have been some intense but impersonal groping and perhaps a swift ride to an available bed for a soulless coupling. But this was Kyungsoo and he didn't want that with Kyungsoo. He didn't really know what he wanted with Kyungsoo, or what he wanted from him. But Jongin knew the other boy deserved worlds more than what he'd done with other guys in the past. He somehow knew that with Kyungsoo, he wouldn't wake up alone the next morning - empty and broken.

"Why did you bring me out tonight, Jongin?"

"I don't want to talk about that, Kyungsoo. I'm sorry but ... I just don't want to think about it again. Ever."

"What I meant was why me? Why did you come to me?" Kyungsoo played with Jongin's fingers as he watched him intently.

"I don't really know. I just wanted to see you. Not anyone else. Just you."

"We barely know each other." Kyungsoo traced the black _E_ on Jongin's index finger.

"It's not about how long we've known each other, Kyungsoo. You just make me feel like everything else just stops, and it's just us. And for a while, I can forget whatever's messing me up." Jongin sighed in frustration, "I'm not making any sense."

"I think I understand." Kyungsoo said softly before rubbing his nose against Jongin's neck and sighing as Jongin's arm gathered him in. Quietly, they sat there for a while longer, just letting the world come to a stop as they breathed in each other's scents and memorized the the way their palms felt against each other's. Skin to skin. Kyungsoo could feel Jongin's pulse against his cheek as it contracted rhythmically beneath the darkly exquisite ebony lines of the angel wing tattoo. Jongin rested his cheek against the top of Kyungsoo's head and then Kyungsoo felt a soft whoosh of air as Jongin sighed with what sounded like relief ... or perhaps even contentment.

\----

"I'll pick you at seven?" Jongin asked as they stopped at the edge of Kyungsoo's front lawn. He'd parked his motorbike at the end of the street and they'd walked up the street as silently as they could. Kyungsoo nodded, smiling, and they exchanged one final lingering kiss before he headed for his front door. Bolting the door quickly, he walked to the nearby window and peered out. Jongin was still standing there, like a sentinel. A guardian angel, almost.

 _A tattooed angel_.

The words were whispers in Kyungsoo's mind and he winced at the irrational and cheesy turn his thoughts had taken. He shook his head - telling himself he really needed to get some sleep.

"Do Kyungsoo." Kyungsoo stiffened just as his right foot was about to land on the first stair.

"Umma, you're here." Shocked by her unexpected presence in the semi-darkness, that was the best Kyungsoo could come up with. As she emerged from the shadows, Kyungsoo took in her furrowed brow and her pinched mouth and knew he was in for it now.

"Who was that boy you just kissed?"

"He's ... someone from school. An art major." Kyungsoo said cautiously and braced himself for a long and loud lecture on why he shouldn't be kissing boys covered in tattoos. At least he knew it wouldn't be a lecture about kissing boys in general as he'd already survived that ten-day lecture when he was seventeen. It had been four years since his mother had discovered his sexual orientation and she had come to terms with it a long time ago. She'd accepted it reluctantly after she realized no amount of nagging was going to convince her son he liked girls.

"Who are his parents? What do they do?"

"I have no idea?" Kyungsoo was confused. Where was the lecture about tattoos?

"You have no idea about his background and you're kissing him on dark street corners in the middle of the night?"

"In all fairness, Umma, it was pretty well-lit and it was the front of our house, not a dark street corner."

"Don't sass me, Soo." She gave him a fearsome glare but Kyungsoo could feel his muscles gradually unlocking. She wasn't calling him by his full name anymore. Apparently, there was still hope for him.

"Why does that kid have blond hair? Doesn't he know Asians look like dumbasses with blond hair?"

"But Umma, half the kpop industry has blond hair."

"Like I said, dumbasses." She rolled her eyes expressively before resuming her interrogation. "Why didn't you tell me you went out?"

"It was past ten and you were asleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"And making me worry myself sick for 1.5 hours was somehow better?" The sarcasm practically dripped from her voice and Kyungsoo felt about two inches tall.

"I thought you'd call me if you needed anything."

"I called you four times, Soo."

"What? You did? But my phone didn't ring."

"Your phone did ring. In your room. I finally realized during the fourth call that I could hear noises from your room. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO LEAVE THE HOUSE WITHOUT YOUR PHONE?!"

"Sorry, Umma. It wasn't on purpose. I was in a hurry." Kyungsoo was reminded of Jongin's troubled expression and his request that he come down quickly, and he had no regrets about forgetting his phone. Kyungsoo could never regret Jongin. His ears would recover from the blistering they were about to endure. They would recover just fine.

\-----

As Jongin's motorbike shot through the deserted streets, his mind felt like it was spinning in equally fast circles; and all the circles led back to the boy with the angel's voice. Kyungsoo was the epitome of everything Jongin normally avoided when considering the rare hook-up. He wasn't jaded like Jongin. He didn't avoid connecting with other people and their lives, and he didn't reject intimacy like Jongin habitually did.

And while Jongin's past was littered with casual flings he'd abandoned with no qualms, he knew without a doubt that Kyungsoo wasn't the sort of person you could easily walk away from without a backward glance. He'd always been so careful to choose people who were just as emotionally disconnected as himself so he couldn't understand why he was so drawn to Kyungsoo. Everything about him radiated Expectations. Commitment. Attachment. These were all things Jongin feared and hadn't had much to do with in years. But even though his head kept telling him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, his heart adamantly refused to listen and continued to thaw and to grow more and more attached.

As he walked the tightrope between feeling nothing and feeling everything, Jongin gave a loud, frustrated sigh and accelerated.

\-----

"What the hell is wrong with your voice?" Minseok asked as they walked out of the practice room together. They'd just spent an hour rehearsing _Adieu, My Sweet Amaryllis_. It was a pretty a capella piece involving only a small number of singers and Minseok and him, both tenors, had stood beside each other in the formation as they always did.

"Long story but the only part you need to know is that I only got 5 hours' sleep. You know what that does to my voice."

"Dumbass." Minseok complained.

"Don't call me dumbass. Umma already called me that no less than eleven times during the hour long lecture she gave me at 2 am. I do not need you calling me a dumbass too, Kim Minseok."

"Where the hell did you go that Omoni ended up yelling at you at 2am? Does this have something to do with that tattooed art major?" Minseok narrowed his intelligent eyes.

"Never mind that." And then Minseok was momentarily distracted as Luhan appeared out of nowhere and hugged him from behind, arms surrounding his shoulders.

"Stop that!" Minseok hissed, "People could see." His voice sounded outraged but Kyungsoo didn't miss the spark of pleasure in his eyes just before he disentangled himself from the cage of Luhan's arms.

"How was practice?" Luhan asked cheerfully as he looped an arm around Minseok's shoulders and walked apace with them.

"Uneventful." Kyungsoo provided.

"The usual - except Soo's voice was wrecked. And you know Soo never lets his voice get wrecked on practice days." Minseok said teasingly.

"Interesting! Tell me more!" Luhan said inquisitively just before his stomach started growling loudly, "Ugh, I didn't have time to eat before I left the house. Choco-pie, anyone? No?" Both Kyungsoo and Minseok held a hand up to indicate no.

"So guys, I need a favor. But I'm gonna need you to not judge." Kyungsoo blurted out.

"That sounds ... ominous." Luhan puckered his lips thoughtfully before shoving an entire Choco-Pie into his mouth - little crumbs of chocolate and biscuit free falling from his overstuffed mouth as he munched.

"I need you guys to pick me up from my place tonight and drop me somewhere else."

"Well that doesn't sound suspicious at all." Minseok shook his head in disbelief.

"Umma was a little overexcited this morning so it's probably better if she sees me going out with you guys. I mean she's known you forever, and more importantly, you don't have blond hair."

"Ohoooo! Blond hair! Wait, who has blond hair? I thought you went out with Tattoo Guy last night?" Luhan asked distractedly as he tore open the wrapper of another Choco-Pie.

"Same guy. I think the street lights must have been too dim and we were too far away from the living room window. Umma never brought up the tattoos and I'd just as soon she doesn't find out about them anytime soon."

"Okay, we'll do it. On one condition. We get to meet Tattoo Guy." Minseok announced uncompromisingly.

"That's blackmail!"

"Do you want that lift or not? I want to check him out for myself, and make sure that my best friend isn't dating a gangster or a junkie or someone with an undisclosed mental disorder."

"First of all, we're not dating - although I'm working on that. And secondly, he's neither a gangster nor a junkie and he's perfectly sane. And even if he had a disorder, WHICH HE TOTALLY DOESN'T, you're a DRAMA major, Seok, NOT a psychology major."

"Okay, so maybe he doesn't have any sanity or addiction issues, but I still want to make sure he doesn't have head lice or something equally gross." Minseok's lips were set in a very determined line.

"Hey!" Kyungsoo swatted Minseok's arm with a rolled up stack of music sheets.

"Whaaaat? The dude is covered in tattoos! I would expect his personal hygiene to be dubious at best."

"There is nothing wrong with his personal hygiene. And he does not have head lice!" Kyungsoo said almost ferociously.

"And you know this how?" Minseok arched a very curious eyebrow, and observed Kyungsoo in much the same way a hawk might stalk its prey.

"I just know." Kyungsoo said stubbornly. And he steadfastly maintained eye contact with Minseok instead of looking away as he would normally have done.

" _I just know_? That's your answer? You have got to be kidding me, Soo! That is the biggest cop out I have ever - wait! Have you guys made out? Is that how you know he's clean? YOU GUYS TOTALLY MADE OUT, RIGHT?! RIGHT?!"

"Luhan, please." Minseok grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake, "Get. A. Fucking. Grip." Then he turned his unwavering attention to Kyungsoo and asked calmly, "Well? Did you guys make out?"

"That's none of your ... fucking business."

"You did not just swear at Minseok? Dude, I wanna meet your tattooed friend. If he can make you stand up up to Kim Minseok, I definitely want to meet him. I'll even check him for head lice as a bonus."

"HE DOES NOT HAVE FUCKING HEAD LICE!"

"You swore again!" Luhan crowed while Minseok remained quiet, a worried expression on his face.

"Are you guys picking me up at 6 or what?" Kyungsoo sighed tiredly.

\------

Jongin had eventually woken up at noon. As he lay there, waiting for his body to shrug off the residual traces of sleep, he recalled the time he'd spent with Kyungsoo the previous night and he smiled. Staggering into his bedroom at around 2.30 am, Jongin had been so completely exhausted he'd just done a hasty wash up, changed into sleepwear and collapsed into bed. It was only now that he realized he'd dressed himself in striped pajama pants. He studied the narrow black and silver stripes on sapphire blue fabric, and wondered what Kyungsoo's striped pajama pants looked like. Were they anything like his? And then he was smiling again. Being silly because of Kyungsoo. Again. What the fuck was he even trying to do? Someone like Kyungsoo wasn't for someone like him, and he really should leave the boy alone, Jongin thought. But he reached for his phone, anyway.

Jongin: Hey, where are you?  
Kyungsoo: Got home a few minutes ago - was just about to text you. About tonight, there's a change of plans.  
Jongin: You mean you can't make it?

If Jongin were the sort to use emoticons, he would have inserted a sad face at the end of his question. But he wasn't the sort and so he just waited warily for Kyungsoo to reply - hoping that he wasn't about to cancel their date.

Kyungsoo: I can make it! I just need you to pick me from someplace that isn't my home.  
Jongin: Are you okay? Did something happen after I left last night?  
Kyungsoo: You could say that. Umma saw us and spent an hour lecturing me about why kissing blond Asian dumbasses on street corners is a dumb thing to do. One! Whole! Hour! ~~(>_<)~~  
Jongin: Blond Asian dumbasses? Scared to even ask.  
Kyungsoo: Are you busy? Can I call you now?  
Jongin: Sure.

And as Jongin waited for Kyungsoo to call, he could feel his lips forming a smile. Being silly because of Kyungsoo. _Again_.

 

 

A/N: I hope you're enjoying the fic! Please do leave a comment or kudo so I know if the story is working for you. Thanks for reading!

 

[sources: _Merriam-Webster_ and _Encyclopaedia Brittanica_ ]


	6. Rhapsody

rhap•so•dy  
noun \ˈrap-sə-dē\  
: a piece of music that is meant to express a lot of emotion and does not have a regular form

 

To say that Kyungsoo's best friend Minseok looked unfriendly was putting things mildly, Jongin thought as he shook the hand the flame-haired guy had reluctantly offered. If he were the kind to be melodramatic, which he wasn't, he might have said Minseok's eyes were literally aiming daggers of hostility at him. His handshake, too was excessively firm - like he was testing Jongin's mettle. It was just as well Jongin was no big fan of limp handshakes and had a strong grip himself. When they'd spoken on the phone in the afternoon, Kyungsoo had told him sheepishly that he'd have to be dropped off at their rendezvous point like a kindergartener and the "parents" would want to meet Jongin.

"Minseok can be a little um ... intimidating. But don't mind him, he just thinks I'm too naive and trusting and we've been best friends since grade school so he's a little overprotective."

"But Kyungsoo, you ARE too naive and trusting." Jongin had sighed in amusement as he'd grabbed the pencil and sketch pad he always kept on his bedside table and started doodling. He always kept them there because inspiration sometimes struck while he was trying to sleep or trying to shake sleep off as he woke up in the morning. Nebulous beginnings of ideas which floated by in his consciousness - inspirational motes which sometimes grew into doodles, sketches, or even full blown paintings. He wasn't sure what he was drawing yet but he'd find out soon.

"Hey!" Kyungsoo just about squawked in indignation.

"You got on a motorbike with me. At night. At a bus stop with no witnesses. I could have kidnapped you, killed you and dumped your body in an abandoned warehouse - just like you said." Jongin laid his points out carefully and Kyungsoo sighed.

"Okay, so that wasn't the wisest thing I've ever done, I'll give you that. But you would never have done any of those things to me, Jongin. I know you wouldn't have."

"No. No, I wouldn't." Jongin's pencil stopped moving for a second before it started moving again.

"Jongin?"

"Hmm?" He drew fine curlicues on the ivory hued paper as he mentally replayed the way Kyungsoo said his name. Jong. In. Kyungsoo always made the two syllables sound rich and dulcet in a way no one else could. He loved the way Kyungsoo said his name. 

"Would you ever hurt me?"

"What?!" Jongin's hand stopped moving across the paper - stunned as he was by Kyungsoo's question. 

"Would you ever hurt me?"

"I would never consciously want to but I don't think anyone could promise to never hurt another person. That's just ... no one could do that." Jongin put the pencil down gently. 

"But would you? Would you hurt me? Are you planning to hurt me?" Kyungsoo's voice was quiet and curious - not in any way clingy. 

"I would never hurt you if I could help it ... which is why I should stay away from you."

"But I don't want you to stay away." Kyungsoo said and after Jongin had remained silent for a while, he added, "Jongin? Did I freak you out? Don't be freaked out ... please? I know you can't promise not to hurt me and I don't even want you to. But can you at least promise me you won't stay away from me just because you don't want to hurt me? Because I'd rather be hurt than not see you again."

"Oh, Kyungsoo. No wonder Minseok is so worried about you. You can't tell people shit like that. They'll take advantage of you."

"But you wouldn't take advantage of me, would you?" Kyungsoo persisted and Jongin let out a long drawn out sigh.

"No. I wouldn't."

"I rest my case."

"You just can't say shit like that to people."

"I can to you." Kyungsoo laughed and Jongin groaned in frustration. Then he quickly brought the conversation back to his best friend before things could get uncomfortable between them.

"Okay so Minseok is the only one you have to worry about it. He's a little bit fierce ... like a pit bull. But once he decides you're one of his, he will defend you to the ends of the earth."

"A fucking pit bull?! I mean a damned pit bull - sorry, I didn't mean to swear."

"I told you swearing doesn't bother me! My friends swear all the time. The only reason I don't do it much is because I don't want to get so used to it that I accidentally drop an f-bomb in front of my mom one of these days. The resulting lecture just isn't worth it."

"If you say so." Jongin chuckled.

"If you've met my mom, you wouldn't laugh, you asshole. Okay, so Minseok is a pit bull but he's the best friend you will ever have, seriously. And Luhan is just a fun guy who likes everyone - just don't mess with Minseok and you won't see his core of steel." 

"Core of steel?! That is just way too cheesy."

"That's because you haven't seen his core of steel."

"STOP."

"It's. A. Serious. Core. Of. Steel."

"I. Said. STOP."

"I. Don't. Want. To." Kyungsoo said stubbornly and they both started laughing even though it was the silliest thing in the world to be laughing about. Then they were talking about other things - both determined to forget that Kyungsoo had asked Jongin if he'd ever break his heart.

\-----

Fortunately for Jongin, Luhan was friendly enough to compensate for Minseok's lack of civility. Minseok's boyfriend had a sinewy, athletic build with predominantly straight, dark brown hair, and animated brown eyes which emanated an air of mischief. Vaguely recalling a semester in high school when his English class had staged a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, Jongin couldn't help thinking that Luhan would've been a perfect Puck. He shook Jongin's hand enthusiastically and asked him where he'd gotten his tattoos done. Jongin answered all his questions with a serious expression because it wasn't really in Jongin's nature to smile or laugh - even with the few people he knew well. Meanwhile, Minseok continued to radiate animosity.

"So what do you want with Kyungsoo?" Minseok finally asked him point blank, with a menacing glint in his intense eyes.

"Kim Minseok, that's just plain rude." Kyungsoo punched his shoulder.

"Are you toying with him? Planning to take away his innocence?"

"Toy with me? Take away my innocence? Nobody says things like that anymore, Seok, and I'm hardly innocent." Kyungsoo was rolling his eyes now. 

"Why are you messing about with Kyungsoo?" Minseok ignored Kyungsoo completely as he focused his stare on Jongin.

"I'm not messing about with him." Jongin's tone was neutral but his eyes burnt with a stubborn fire.

"Well, whatever it is you think you're doing, you can stop right now. He's leaving with us."

"Minseok." Luhan said quietly, giving his boyfriend a warning look.

"I'm not trying to hurt him and I reckon Kyungsoo should leave with whomever he wants. If he wants to leave with you, I won't stand in his way. But I hope he'll stay." Unvoiced, even to Jongin himself, were the words 'with me'.

"How do I know you won't break him?" 

"You don't know that he won't but it's my risk to take, Seok. Thanks for looking out for me but ... this is something I need to sort out myself. I'll be okay." 

"But," Minseok began, still hellbent on shielding him from any potential pain. 

"Let's go now, Seok." Luhan wrapped his arm around his boyfriend's waist and firmly steered him towards the electric blue Honda Jazz parked across the street.

"But Soo," Minseok protested.

"Is an adult. He'll be fine. And besides, the guy doesn't have head lice - I checked. Soo will be just fine." Luhan explained as if it was the most logical thing in the world. Kyungsoo wasn't surprised at all when Minseok poked the side of Luhan's head and pushed it none too gently, calling him a pabo. Just like he wasn't surprised when Luhan just chuckled and kissed Minseok on the cheek despite the latter's very vocal complaints that they were on a public street and someone might see. Despite Luhan's attempts to distract him though, Minseok turned around to give Kyungsoo a final look of concern and the latter waved him on with a reassuring nod while Luhan shepherded him to the brightly colored vehicle.

"Pit bull ... I can totally see it." Jongin scratched his right sideburn.

"Well that sure felt like a scene from one of my mom's Korean dramas." Kyungsoo sighed. "Sorry you had to go through that."

"No, it's fine. I can't blame your friend for being worried. I'm not exactly a great catch. I'd be worried too if I were him." Jongin gestured at his tattoos.

"I like your tattoos just fine." Kyungsoo took his arm, "Now where are we going?"

"I was thinking we could go to Goong Restaurant in Koreatown?"

"Sounds good. After all that excitement I could probably eat a cow." Kyungsoo declared. Jongin slung his arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders and the smaller boy relaxed into Jongin's warmth as they made their way to the motorbike. 

\-----

"I think I legit ate a cow." Kyungsoo complained as they left the cheery, noisy warmth of the restaurant. Abruptly, the metallic clink of cutlery and the low buzzing of loud conversation in the Korean eatery were exchanged for the street sounds of cars whizzing by and the impassioned shouts of street vendors hawking carp bread and tornado potato.

Kyungsoo always enjoyed strolling through Koreatown. It was always so vibrant. His ears absorbed the sounds of feet impacting the sidewalk and snatches of overheard conversations as people streamed past. A couple of middle-aged Korean men were weaving down the street, faces kimchi red and radiating alcoholic exuberance as they slurred their way through the lines of an old Super Junior song. There was always something interesting to see in Koreatown. 

"What do you wanna do now?" Jongin brushed his hand over Kyungsoo's neck almost absent mindedly - like it was something he'd always done. Kyungsoo's skin felt flushed where Jongin's fingers had made contact with it but he tried his best to be nonchalant.

"Can we just walk? I haven't been to Koreatown in weeks. I'd forgotten how much I miss it." 

Jongin didn't say anything, only fitting his arm securely around Kyungsoo's slight shoulders. After they'd been walking for a while, Jongin asked how things had been with Kyungsoo's mom after their phone call.

"She seemed calm enough. She didn't say much when I said I was going out with Minseok and Luhan. I still can't believe she went on for a whole hour last night!" 

"Ya know? I wish my mother would yell at me at least once. Anything would be better than the silence and distractedness she gives me. You're lucky your mom cares enough about you to worry when you're not around. And she cared enough about you to spend a whole hour yelling at you instead of going to bed. It was late. I'm sure she was really tired. You know what I mean?"

"I ... never really thought of it that way. She just nags so much, I guess I just see it as her being a pain."

"I think I'm ready to tell you my next secret." Jongin said quietly as they continued to stroll along the sidewalk. "The thing I have with my parents - it's kinda like a paper cut that won't heal. You know how you forget you have a paper cut till you wash your hands or take a shower? Then you feel the sting and the pain is fresh all over again. I mean I forget that it hurts that they don't care about me until they show me again that they don't care. And then my heart hurts all over again. Like a paper cut that's been exposed to water."

"I ... I'm so sorry, Jongin."

"Why? It's not your fault my parents don't give a shit about me. You know how I told you I got my tatts because my friends were getting them? Well that wasn't a lie. Tao has a stylized leopard on his shoulder while Kris has a stylized dragon on his left arm - we got them all at the same place. I honestly wanted a tattoo but mostly I did it to make my parents mad. I wanted them to give me a reaction - any kind of reaction to show that they actually even noticed me. When I got kicked out of a private boarding school for 'chronic vandalism and truancy', they barely said much. Just transferred me to a public high school not so far from our house. That's where I met Tao and Kris." Jongin, once he'd torn the scab off an old wound, seemed to need to get things out, for Kyungsoo had never seen him talk this much at once. Jongin was the sort to say as little as he could possibly get away with so Kyungsoo knew he had to keep him talking so he could stop bottling everything inside.

"Why'd you get yourself expelled?"

"The school was full of rich, snotty pricks. And also ... I missed ahjumma's cooking." Jongin looked a little self conscious as he admitted this and Kyungsoo knew it was the woman he missed rather than her culinary skills.

"Ahjumma?"

"Minjung ahjumma. She's been cleaning our house for 12 years. She comes in the morning and she cleans the place and cooks dinner before she leaves. She's ... great." Jongin explained matter-of-factly and Kyungsoo's heart broke over the fact that the mother figure in Jongin's life had not been his own mother but the lady who came to clean their house.

"Chronic vandalism?" Kyungsoo asked - deciding he wouldn't probe too deeply about Jongin's ahjumma till later. He didn't want to spook him. 

"I um spray painted the walls of the gym with graffiti. More than once."

"I hope it was artistic at least."

"Of course it was." Jongin found himself laughing about a period of his life which he's never had any reason to laugh about before.

"So what happened with the tattoo?"

"Well, I got part of my neck inked that first session and when I got home my father didn't even look up from his newspaper so he didn't say anything. He's never said anything about it to this day. My mother just looked at it and said we could get it lasered off 'if it doesn't suit'. I was like ... what the hell? But I didn't say anything either. No one says much to each other in my house to be honest. That was the only thing my mother ever said about the tattoo."

"What did ahjumma have to say?"

"She was so pissed off she pinched my ears and yelled at me for half an hour. Called me an idiot, a pabo. Three days in a row. And she yelled every time the tattoo got larger. It was awesome." Not sure what to say, Kyungsoo just smiled at him and squeezed closer - uncaring of what other people might think.

"So that's my secret, I guess? I want my parents to see me. I mean really see me. But I don't think they ever will."

"I see you, Jongin."

"Yeah. I kinda gathered from the way you've been kissing me." Jongin chuckled, trying to lighten the atmosphere. But Kyungsoo could see from his eyes that things weren't really okay.

"I'm serious, Jongin."

"I know." And he really did. He knew Kyungsoo cared for him more than he should even though they'd never really talked about it. 

"Take me somewhere quiet." Kyungsoo's eyes were intense as they stared into Jongin's hurt ones. He wanted to stroke his cheek and hold him close and tell him he saw him, the real him. But this wasn't the place for it. To his relief, Jongin didn't argue. He only nodded and minutes later, they were cutting through the chilly October air as the motorbike took them further and further away from Koreatown.

\-----

Illuminated by the waxing moon, the surface of the water looked like it had been streaked with mercury and Jongin couldn't stop staring at it, it was so pretty. The breeze wasn't exactly icy but it was more than cold enough and Jongin held Kyungsoo closer to his side as he felt the other boy shiver. They were lying flat on their backs on the wooden planks of the small jetty that jutted out over the placid waters of Lake Clayton. It was after ten and by some miracle, they had the secluded spot all to themselves instead of having to share it with any number of amorous couples. 

"Why are we here?"

"Because quiet places are nice." Kyungsoo said mysteriously as he took Jongin's right hand in his and placed it on his own left cheek. Turning his face slightly, he breathed in the scent of Jongin's cupped hand.

"They smell different today - your hands. They don't smell so much like nicotine today."

"Oh. That. I should quit. It was a bad habit I picked up in high school. Tao and Kris and I thought it was cool. They quit a year ago. I should too. Sometimes I go days without picking up a cigarette anyway and I don't exactly miss it. I should quit. Would that make you happy?"

"It would make me happy but Jongin, I don't expect it."

"I know."

"So what am I smelling on your hand? I swear it smells like paint mixed with baby. I don't know why but your hand smells like my little nephew Seungchae," Kyungsoo looked completely confused and Jongin had to laugh.

"I was working with oil paints this afternoon and I used baby oil to remove the stains from my fingers." Jongin's face was relaxed and amused as he demystified the scent for Kyungsoo. 

"You were painting! Was it that thing you were working on in the practice room?"

"I ... what?" Now it was Jongin's turn to look confused.

"The practice room with the stained glass. It was your shoe I saw in the room last Tuesday, right? You drew that angel for me, didn't you?"

Then there were sudden muffled groans as Jongin turned on his side and covered his face with his sleeved arm - apparently in acute embarrassment. It was something Kyungsoo had never expected to see.

"You weren't supposed to know I was there. This is so humiliating. And now I feel like a stalker. I didn't even dare use the phone number because I didn't want you to think I was some sicko."

"I'm sure you're not a stalker and I'm sure you have your reasons for not telling me you were there. And of course I knew you were there. I don't make a habit of giving my phone number to random strangers, Kim Jongin." Kyungsoo chuckled and half straddled Jongin so he could force his arm away from his face.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jongin finally asked, still sheepish as he looked up at Kyungsoo, whose face hovered temptingly above his. 

"You didn't seem to want me to know you were there so I let you be. Plus, I didn't know you that well yet - if I'd called you out it might have been all kinds of awkward." Kyungsoo said simply, just before he lowered his head to kiss Jongin, his lips teasing and pliant as they moved gently against Jongin's. His tongue played sensually with the titanium piercing on the edge of Jongin's lip before entering and exploring the inside of his mouth. Strong arms circled Kyungsoo's back and pulled him in so he lay right on top of Jongin's hard chest and torso. 

Kyungsoo brushed a few blond strands from Jongin's forehead before dropping butterfly kisses on his closed eyelids. For all Jongin's carnal experience, he had never felt this kind of soul-scorching tenderness - he had never let anyone close enough before. He couldn't explain why he'd let Kyungsoo in and right now, he didn't really care as he reached up and pressed his lips urgently against Kyungsoo's neck and tasted the pale skin there ... his tongue moving over the small flurry of beautiful moles that marked its smooth surface. The other boy moaned just before he caught Jongin's earlobe between his teeth in a move that ignited Jongin's skin like wildfire spreading through a forest. Effortlessly, Jongin reversed their positions so that Kyungsoo was the one who lay beneath him while he looked down into the eyes he'd always known would uncover all the parts of him he never wanted the world to see.

"Jongin?"

"Do you want to stop?" Jongin made himself ask calmly.

"No, it's not about that." Kyungsoo shook his head, his gaze unwavering.

"What is it then?" Jongin asked, resting on his elbows, his chest almost touching Kyungsoo's, and their lips mere inches apart.

"I see you, Jongin. I see the real you." Kyungsoo said and his hand stroked the honey-colored skin of Jongin's cheek, and the plum hue of his lips before pulling his head down for a kiss that devastated the already shattered remains of Jongin's defenses. 

"I see you." Kyungsoo said again later, in between lingering kisses. And Jongin's dark lashes glimmered wetly in the moonlight as he touched and caressed the other boy and showed him he cared in ways that went beyond words. 

"I see you, Jongin."

 

_(definition for rhapsody taken from merriam-webster.com)_


	7. Fantasia

1rap·ture  
 noun \ˈrap-chər\  
: a state or feeling of great happiness, pleasure, or love

(Source: merriam-webster.com)

 

The planks were unyielding and didn't make the most comfortable mattress, but Kyungsoo and Jongin barely noticed as they lay in each other's arms, snuggling close for warmth against the nocturnal chill. It was probably around midnight by then but no one had been keeping track of the time - both too wrapped up in quiet conversation and kissing to notice the passing of the minutes.They were engrossed in discussing favorite movie moments when Kyungsoo's phone began buzzing insistently in his pocket. He scrambled to pull it out because the odds were ten thousand to one it was his umma.

U: You'd better have your phone with you this time   -___- 

K: Yes, umma. Can you not use emoticons because you're old - it's weirddddd.

U: Don't sass me, Do Kyungsoo! O.o What time are you coming home? You'd better not be drunk.

K: Umma, I'm 21. I'm old enough to vote. Can I not tell you what time I'm coming home?

U: Fine =____= But if you throw up in my house, you'll clean the mess yourself.

K: I AM NOT DRINKING! AND STOP WITH THE EMOTICONS!

U: :P

K: That's kinda rude, Umma. Don't wait up, ok?

U: I wasn't going to. Don't be so full of yourself.

K: Gooddddd niiiiiight, Ummaaaaa

U: Don't do anything stupid.

K: I won't.

 

"I swear she thinks I'm still 16 sometimes." Kyungsoo made a comical tearing-his-hair-out motion as he put his phone down on the roughened surface of the wood they were lying on.

"Kyungsoo?" Jongin had turned on his side, his arm pillowing his head. "This will sound stupid but can I see? See what you and your mom talked about, I mean?" And Jongin, cool and indifferent Jongin looked almost ... awkward for a moment. And young, he looked so young and unsure of himself that Kyungsoo was powerless to refuse as he launched the text conversation and let him have his phone. Lying on his side so that he faced Jongin, Kyungsoo watched, absorbed, as a whole gamut of emotions passed fleetingly across Jongin's features. Amusement. Fascination. Wistfulness.

"Why don't you use emoticons when you're texting your mom? You use them with me all the time." Jongin asked finally as he handed the phone back.

"Are you mad? I don't want to encourage her. She's out of control as it is. Just because my noona taught her a few emoticons a few years back, she thinks she has to use them in every single text message she sends out."

"I think ... it's cute that your mom sends you emoticons in her messages. I don't think my mother even knows what an emoticon is. And even if she did know, she probably wouldn't know how to use one. At least ... I've never seen her use one." Jongin's face was carefully expressionless as he answered Kyungsoo's probing question.

"So do you text each other?" Kyungsoo thought about leaving it alone but he sensed that Jongin might actually want to talk about it. Whether he knew it or not.

"She sends me instructions a few times a month, I guess? Is that texting? Like she'll tell me she's left $500 on the foyer table for my weekly expenses. Or she'll text me to say my father and her are going out of town for a few days. Call her if there's an emergency. My answers to her texts are usually either Yes or No. Is that texting?"

"Is that why you don't use emoticons, Jongin? Is it because of your mom?" Kyungsoo's hand reached out and cradled Jongin's cheek in what he hoped was a soothing move.

"I never really thought about why I don't do emoticons ... I just never have. Probably never will. And she's my mother, Kyungsoo. She's not really the mom type." Jongin said quietly before covering his eyes with his forearm. It was one of his nervous habits, Kyungsoo realized - one of his tells for when he was in some form of distress. He thought about saying something funny to cheer him up but he knew that wasn't what Jongin needed right now. Sometimes words just weren't right. So Kyungsoo inched slowly closer to Jongin, stopping only when their chests were touching. Gently, he kissed the edges of Jongin's chin and then his strong, angular jawline. Jongin let his arm fall away from his face before laying a possessive hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. Smiling, Kyungsoo dropped kisses along the curling ebony lines that marked Jongin's skin, lines that told stories of angels that could fly. Then he closed his eyes as he felt the impression of warm lips on his forehead and the comforting weight of Jongin's arms as they curved intimately around his slim back and waist. They exchanged a tender look before shutting their eyelids and angling their faces. Softly, their lips met and Jongin's damaged heart felt like it was being stitched back together again as Kyungsoo overwhelmed his senses and their tongues quickly found each other in a desperate, soul binding kiss. And all the while, Kyungsoo's fingers traced the delicate dark lines of seraph wings while Jongin's right hand stroked his ivory pale nape and the left moved across his narrow sweater-clad back, exploring its contours. When they finally drew apart minutes later, Kyungsoo continued caressing the patterned skin on Jongin's neck and the other boy's palm eventually covered the back of Kyungsoo's hand so that it ceased its movement and just lay there, quiet against his skin.

"No one's ever touched it."

"You mean your tattoo? No one's ever touched it?"

"No one's ever really touched it. I mean there's this waitress at Kris's uncle's bar who tries but I don't like her getting anywhere near it. And the tattoo artist doesn't count."

"But you've had boyfriends in the past right? Girlfriends maybe? Didn't they want to touch it?"

"No girlfriends. Just boys. And they wanted to but I wouldn't let them. I ... don't like people touching my neck." Jongin's eyes were intense as he said it and something inside Kyungsoo - something that felt a lot like hope – slowly unfurled and grew.

"But you never said anything. I wouldn't have touched your neck if I'd known you didn't like it. I'm sorry, Jongin." Kyungsoo voice was remorseful but hope floated on the surface of his soul.

"I said I don't like people touching my neck," Jongin played with the strands of inky black hair that fell messily across Kyungsoo's forehead, "You've never been people to me, Kyungsoo."

"Then what am I?"

"I can't put it in words but ... I always knew I would tell you things about myself - things I never wanted anyone to know."

"I'm glad you trust me."

"It's a little more than trust, I think." Jongin chuckled, "The first time I saw you was two days before I talked to you at the bus stop. At the practice room. I told myself I had to stay away from you because you looked dangerous."

"Me?! Dangerous? No one's ever said that about me. Earnest, responsible, helpful, yes, but no one in living history has ever called me dangerous till you. And oh my God how boring and unexciting do I sound?! Earnest? Helpful? Responsible?" Kyungsoo groaned and buried his face in the crook between Jongin's neck and shoulder and Jongin placed his hand on Kyungsoo's head and stroked it ... almost hesitantly, because it wasn't the kind of gesture he ever made or received. But people seemed to do things like that in the movies, he thought, as he stroked Kyungsoo's thick, black hair. And it felt good to have Kyungsoo in his arms. His hair was silky with just a touch of coarseness. He liked the texture of Kyungsoo's hair beneath his fingertips, and he liked the comforting pressure of his head on his shoulder and the weight of his hand on his collarbones. He just ... liked Kyungsoo.

"You're dangerous to me."

"I don't understand, Jongin."

"You make me tell you things I want to keep locked away so I never have to think about them. I don't like taking those things out and  talking about them."

"You don't have to tell me things, Jongin. I don't expect you to. I hope you'll tell me if I'm invading your privacy."

"But that's the thing, it never feels that way. And the words just fall off my tongue like I can't stop them." Jongin sighed, but it wasn't exactly an unhappy sound. Relieved, Kyungsoo nestled closer and breathed in the muted scintilla of Jongin's woody, smoky cologne.

"Do you want me to stop asking you stuff?"

"No." Jongin's fingers made delicious spidery trails over Kyungsoo's nape and he rested his chin on the top of Kyungsoo's head.

"I thought you were dangerous too the first time I saw you." Kyungsoo chuckled, "I was scared you might rob me and leave me for dead so I was getting ready to run to that bar across the road - because there were lots of people there." Now it was Jongin's turn to laugh, his broad chest and shoulders shaking with mirth.

"Don’t laugh. I'm a chickenshit, okay? It was dark. You had tattoos on your neck and arm and I was like, is he going to attack me?"

"I'm laughing because that's actually where I came from - the bar. It belongs to Kris' cousin Ace. The guys were shooting pool and I was sitting by the window, looking out. I saw you running to the bus stop just as the bus was leaving. I recognized you from the practice room two days before."

"And ...?" Kyungsoo found Jongin's hand and aligned their palms together. Their palms were almost the same size but Jongin's artistic, elegant fingers were much longer. Kyungsoo played with Jongin's fingers and looked up at him, "I never thanked you, Jongin, for that drawing you gave me of the stained glass angel. It was just beautiful. Your fingers can create such beauty." Kyungsoo said as he entwined Jongin's fingers in his.

"It was nothing. I just wanted to give you something. A kind of thank you, I guess. Because I heard you sing the week before and your voice is just ... That's why I drew an angel. Your voice ... " Jongin shrugged awkwardly as he struggled to find the right words. But he held on tightly to Kyungsoo's hand as if to say I don't have the words to express it but listening to you sing meant so much to me.

"It was not nothing, Jongin. It was exquisite. And I forgot you’ve heard me sing." Now it was Kyungsoo who was overcome by self-consciousness and he hastily brought the conversation back to the bus-stop encounter, "So you saw me through the bar window, and then ...?"

"I guess I must be attracted to danger because I ditched my friends and took a bus to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. With a choirboy." Jongin said teasingly - somehow managing to make the word 'choirboy' sound like 'serial killer'.

"You're so not funny!" Kyungsoo poked Jongin in the chest, hard. Then the two of them looked at each other, grinned and shared a conspiratorial laugh. Jongin felt like he hadn't laughed so much in the last five years as he had in the past ten days - as in really, really laughed, in a way that made his belly tingle and the skin around his eyes crease. It had been the longest time. But then, he hadn't had much to laugh about until Kyungsoo. He hadn't even realized just how much he'd missed the soreness of mirth in his tummy muscles, and the adrenalin buzz that energized his muscles when he laughed from the heart.

"Jongin, do you regret crossing the road? Do you regret meeting me?" Kyungsoo's face was serious now, his eyes intense as he rested his chin on Jongin's chest, staring at him. Asking difficult questions was Do Kyungsoo's forte, but this question wasn't difficult at all and the answer came to Jongin easily and without effort or hesitation.

"I don't think I could ever regret you, Kyungsoo." Jongin said simply, just before he dragged Kyungsoo into his arms and kissed him - healing yet more fissures in his ravaged heart. For years, Jongin had kept the fragile pieces bound together with a cold veneer he'd worn to shut people out. But now he found himself completely at Kyungsoo's mercy, and the hardened layers protecting his heart continued to flake off as the two boys found comfort and passion in each other's embrace.

\-------

In spring, the jacaranda tree Tao and Jongin were sitting under was usually blanketed in a profusion of deep lavender blooms. But the tree was now ablaze in shades of autumn, and the leaves looked like they’d been dipped in golden yellow paint. Jongin blinked as he shaded his eyes against the early afternoon rays that peeked through the jacaranda foliage. No matter how brightly the sun burned though, Jongin never wore sunglasses. He didn't even own a single pair. Sometimes it seemed as if he’d already hidden so much of himself away that adding another veil just didn't appeal. So rather than concealing his eyes, Jongin braved the glare of the sun through summer and all the other seasons of the year. Kris thought it was ridiculous and nagged him periodically to just go and get himself a pair of Oakleys because his constant squinting annoyed him. But he usually just shrugged it off with a whatever and Kris would roll his eyes, directing a highly aggrieved look his way before leaving him alone for the next couple of months or so.

"How are things, Tao? At home I mean?"

"If you mean with Kris, it's ... kinda great, Jongin. He fusses a bit sometimes but I can deal." If Tao was surprised by Jongin's uncharacteristically personal question, he gave no indication, calmly sipping his iced coffee. He almost always had cold drinks - even in the middle of winter. Jongin often joked that he had his own internal heating system because that was the only reason he could think of for why anyone would voluntarily drink chilled coffee in sub-zero temperatures. Tao's usual response to that was that hot beverages were for old people. This usually earned him a sharp kick in the ankle or a hard punch in the shoulder from Kris who usually drank copious amounts of blisteringly hot espresso in cold weather. Jongin wondered if they'd see any more ankle kicking this winter now that their relationship dynamic had changed so dramatically.

"I do not fuss." Kris said firmly as he suddenly emerged from behind the jacaranda tree, tall and striking in black denim jeans, a button-down white shirt and black leather jacket. They were pretty casual at the advertising firm where he worked as a graphic designer so Kris mostly wore jeans to work. He generally wore a lot of black because he said it saved a shitload of time in the morning because less time was spent on picking out an outfit since as he put it so succinctly, black goes with fucking everything.

"Why are you here? I didn’t know you had the day off? And of course you fuss. You are the worst." Tao said scornfully. Kris ignored his gibe and carefully sat down on the grass, positioning himself so his back leaned against Tao’s and Jongin had to work really hard not to snort.

“Is something bothering you, Kim Jongin?” Kris raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“You’re going to get grass stains on your ass.” Jongin announced deadpan even though he knew that Kris wouldn’t believe that answer for a second. Kris looked like he was about to say something scathing but fortunately Tao headed him off.

“Why are you here again? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I had to deliver portfolios to a company nearby so I thought I’d just drop by and yeah …” Kris let his words trail off as he leaned back subtly against Tao who uttered something that sounded like oh. At this point, Jongin got up slowly and brushed damp, crushed blades of grass off the seat of his jeans.

“I’ve gotta go, guys. Got a couple of classes. Later.”

Jongin grabbed his backpack and gave them the ghost of a smile as he sauntered off – an expression which rarely appeared on his face and as he walked further and further away from them, Kris nudged Tao’s shoulder with his own.

“What’s up with him?”

“I think it’s the choirboy. Jongin seems to really like him and you know the dude hasn’t ever really liked anyone.”

“Huh. Well, if he makes Jongin smile, I’m all for the choirboy.”

“Me too. Now why are you really here?” Tao turned and gave Kris his most penetrating stare.

“I just wanted to see how you were.” Kris muttered under his breath. Tao’s father had called him the night before and told him he could come home if he stopped seeing Kris and guys in general. It hadn’t gone well.

“Don’t fuss.”

“I don’t fuss!”

Tao snorted loudly. But secretly, he liked it when Kris showed concern although he would admit that to Kris over his dead body.

\-----

 

Jongin knew he didn’t have to rush to the stained glass room today because there was no need to hide anymore. Kyungsoo knew he'd been in the room those two times so he didn’t have to get there before him, but that didn’t stop his long, lean legs from striding swiftly through the hallways. It took everything for him to not knife through the slow-moving crowds of students in his impatience to reach the place where he'd first set eyes on the other boy. On the final flight of stairs, though, he couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he jogged up the steps, weaving jerkily through the crowd and running for the rest of the way. He skidded to a halt outside the door but unlike last week, he didn’t stop to catch his breath and just bolted through the door, panting slightly.  

Startled by the sudden burst of noise, the solitary figure in the room turned around, and faced him.

“Jongin? You’re here.” Kyungsoo’s features relaxed into a warm smile.

“But you’re never here before me.” Jongin still couldn’t seem to quite process that Kyungsoo was actually standing before him.

“Well, I finish my class at 4 and I usually go and have some tea and a snack at the cafeteria but well, I didn’t want to waste any time today.” Kyungsoo explained as he closed the distance between Jongin and himself, finally coming to a stop right in front of the other boy. In the end, all Jongin could say was hey as he took a few steps forward and enveloped Kyungsoo in his arms.

“Hey.” Kyungsoo said just before he curled his fingers around Jongin’s nape and pressed his lips to his.

Jongin had never truly understood what it meant to feel like he belonged to someone. His parents had never made him feel like they wanted him and he hadn’t wanted to belong to all those nameless, faceless people he had slept with. But now there was Kyungsoo; and Jongin wanted more than anything to belong to him. This was what it was like to belong to someone, Jongin thought, as he deepened their kiss and pulled Kyungsoo further into his embrace – their bodies drenched in the blue, green, champagne gold light that streamed in through the stained glass window …


	8. Allegro

Kyungsoo cleared his throat wearily and reached for his clear plastic drinking bottle. He'd been rehearsing for forty-five minutes and his mouth felt parched and his throat had begun to sting from the exertion. Before his fingers could curl around the bottle though, Kyungsoo felt strong arms settle snugly around his waist and firm lips graze his nape. And he sighed as he curled his fingers around Jongin's hands - the water bottle all but forgotten.

"Your voice is starting to break up and my fingers are tired. Time to rest." Jongin's husky voice and warm breath tickled at Kyungsoo's ear.

"When are you going to show me what you're working on anyway?" Kyungsoo asked curiously. But there was no answer as Jongin's slender fingers pried his collar away from his neck so his mouth could access the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. Kyungsoo gasped at the contact as Jongin's tongue licked a sensation filled path across his skin.

"Jongin," Kyungsoo tried to use a warning tone but Jongin's name only sounded like an ill-concealed hiss of pleasure.

"Yes?" Jongin asked lazily as his hands roamed the expanse of Kyungsoo's woolen sweater clad chest.

"Someone could come in and see us." Kyungsoo said half-heartedly because the last thing he actually wanted was for Jongin to stop. Jongin rotated his body slightly so they now faced each other. Intense, impassioned eyes stared into Kyungsoo's just before Jongin's mouth descended on his. When their lips met it was like coming home, and Jongin's tongue swept into Kyungsoo's mouth with all the desperation of a drowning man. This was belonging. Kissing Kyungsoo was a way of belonging to him, wasn't it? And Jongin wanted more than anything to belong to him.

"Fuck, I don't even care anymore if someone walks in," Kyungsoo said as he abandoned any resolution he'd flirted with to avoid Jongin's kisses. His arms hooked Jongin around the waist and wheeled him in, their chests and hips pressing close together as Kyungsoo deepened the kiss - their mouths and tongues clashing eagerly. In a sudden moment of craving, Kyungsoo's lips traveled across the angel's wings and sucked a pale purple mark onto the smooth tanned canvas of Jongin's skin, while Jongin moaned softly at the unexpected knot of pain and pleasure. It was barely visible among the inked lines but Kyungsoo and Jongin knew exactly where the mark of possession was and what it meant.

"Did you just give me a hickey?" Jongin asked when they finally separated after minutes of feverish kissing, his fingers touching the spot gingerly, as if it hurt a little.

"Yeah, I did." Kyungsoo's smile had a touch of defiance as he confirmed it.

"Why?" Jongin asked, his fingers drawing circles on Kyungsoo's nape and creating all kinds of sensory havoc.

"I don't know. Because I can't resist that tattoo and because I wanted to leave something of mine on you - even if it's just a bruise. Are you mad?"

"No." Jongin answered sincerely before kissing him.

"Does it hurt?" Kyungsoo touched the lilac colored mark gently.

"There was a twinge when you were sucking on my skin, that's all. But it felt good a lot more than it hurt." Jongin's almost smile made him look … young and nothing like the jaded, intimidating young man Kyungsoo had met at the bus stop that first time.

"You make it sound like it's the first time someone's given you a love bite." Kyungsoo chuckled.

"On my neck, it is. I've never let anyone else touch it, remember?" Jongin said before he pulled Kyungsoo close against his chest - effectively cutting off eye contact, like he'd revealed too much. Kyungsoo sank into his embrace and pressed his left cheek against his shoulder. As he inhaled the delectable scent of Jongin and Bvlgari Black, he whispered, "Thank you, Jongin, for letting me." And Jongin just held him tighter and neither boy brought up the fact that Kyungsoo hadn't just touched Jongin's neck - he'd marked it in a very clear act of possession.

"You sounded kinda sexy when you said the F word." Jongin chuckled after a few moments of silence had lapsed - the deep throaty sound doing all kinds of things to Kyungsoo's equilibrium.

"I wasn't trying to sound sexy!" Kyungsoo protested into Jongin's shoulder, even as he felt another laugh vibrate in Jongin's chest cavity.

"That's why it worked." Jongin's forehead touched Kyungsoo's - another gesture he'd seen in movies which seemed like something he wanted to do with Kyungsoo. Touching foreheads was nice, he thought, and he filed it away in his increasingly large mental folder of things he liked to do with Kyungsoo.

The laugh lines around his eyes still crinkled with mirth as he leaned in close, and Jongin's face was simply the most beautiful thing Kyungsoo had ever seen. He couldn't help but smile in return just before he reached up and caught Jongin's lips in his in the tenderest of kisses.

"That was a masterful use of misdirection and it succeeded in distracting me for almost six minutes, but I _still_ want to know what you're working on." Kyungsoo said as he pulled away and Jongin chuckled again because Kyungsoo had such an irrepressible way of asking the most unpredictable things at the most unexpected times. He didn't think he would ever tire of it.

"Secret."

"Bullshit."

"I'll show it to you when it's done. Promise."

"Does it have angels in it?"

"Stop fishing."

"Does it have angels in it? Because you drew me an angel the other day."

"Maybe. A ... couple or so. Maybe."

Kyungsoo's fingers skated along the the intricate dark lines etched into Jongin's neck. He would never get enough of the elegant angel wing tattoos that adorned his caramel colored skin. Jongin closed his eyes and absorbed the tantalizing movements of Kyungsoo's fingertips pressing lightly against his skin. Irresistibly, he found himself leaning into Kyungsoo's touch, where in the past, he had flinched away when others tried to go anywhere near his neck.

"What were you taking photographs of just now? When I was singing?" Kyungsoo's voice dispersed the sensation-fueled fog that had settled over Jongin and his eyelids flickered open slowly.

"The stained glass window." Jongin answered readily but there was a look of evasiveness in his eyes which made Kyungsoo suspicious.

"That's all? You only took pictures of the stained glass panels?"

"I … might have taken a few photographs of you." Jongin admitted reluctantly, his cheeks slightly tinged with red. He was ready to confess that he wanted images of Kyungsoo to keep but it wasn't yet time to reveal what else he needed the photographs for.

"Why would you do that?" Kyungsoo questioned mercilessly.

"Can I not answer that?"

"Please?"

"Because you're beautiful, ok? Because seeing your face makes life suck a little less. I'm sorry, I just ... fail at words." Jongin muttered, eyes to the ground in an endearing display of shyness.

"You don't fail at words." Kyungsoo shook his head and cupped his right cheek, "You don't fail at all. But it is getting late ... we should get back to work. I don't have a lot of time left to practice in a large, high-ceilinged room. The ambience and acoustics at home just aren't right." Nodding quietly, Jongin led him to the desk covered in neat stacks of music sheets and Kyungsoo's bottle of drinking water. Once Kyungsoo had gulped down the water he needed, he began to warm up his vocal chords again while Jongin watched and listened from his spot nearby. His art materials were spread out neatly, ready for use. But for just a little while, Jongin watched as Kyungsoo began enunciating the words,

_Something always brings me back to you._  
It never takes too long.  
No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone. 

If Kyungsoo had been mildly distracted by Jongin's hidden presence seven days earlier, he ironically found more focus today because of it. Maybe it was because he didn't have to pretend anymore that Jongin wasn't there or maybe it was because he was trying harder to be pitch perfect in an attempt to impress the other boy. Either way, having Jongin in the room seemed to work for Kyungsoo. The other boy, meanwhile, had sat at a cluster of desks nearby, and worked steadily on his pencil sketches throughout the first 45-minute session - absolutely silent except for the infrequent sounds of shutter clicks when he took photographs with his DSLR. They had both gotten plenty of work done and it had been nice doing it together - _nice_ was a weak kind of word to describe the warmth and companionship that permeated his entire being but it was the only word Kyungsoo could come up with for now. Now that their break was over, they resumed their earlier momentum seamlessly, only stopping occasionally to take surreptitious looks at each other.

\------

Impatiently, Kyungsoo looked at his watch. It was 6.15 and the world outside had been blanketed in a layer of darkness and cold for close to an hour now. He usually met Minseok and Luhan at 6.10 on Tuesdays. The meeting time differed with the day, but the place was always the same - the foyer of the Performing Arts Department. He'd texted both Minseok and Luhan to say he wouldn’t be leaving with them today but neither one of them seemed to be answering their phones. _Where the hell were they?_ Finally, at 6.18, Luhan showed up alone.

"Hey! Sorry about the time - I had to pick up some books from the library. Group project. I hate those. There's always that one asshole who will screw it up for the rest of us."

"Well, that sucks. Hey Lu, I won't be needing a lift today. Actually, I might not need a lift for the rest of the week." Kyungsoo announced matter-of-factly before asking, "Where's Seok?"

"He's at home. Stomach flu or something. You know how anal he is about missing lectures - it's gotta be a pretty bad case if he takes a day off."

"I didn't know he was sick. Um ... Lu? Is he still really upset about me seeing Jongin?"

"Welllll, you know what a stubborn ass Kim Minseok is. Even it he's not actually upset about it anymore, he's going to pretend he is just so he won't have to admit he made a mistake."

"Does that mean he's getting used to the idea?"

"He's ... coming round. I think. He's stopped cursing the guy anyway."

"What?!!"

"I kid, I kid! He might have said he was going to tear 'that tattooed boy' limb from limb if he hurt you. Like, he might have said it a couple of times a day. But he hasn't mentioned wanting to mutilate Jongin in two days. That's good, right?" Luhan gave Kyungsoo a slightly manic grin and he had to laugh at Luhan's astounding levels of hyperbole.

"That was a complete exaggeration." Kyungsoo shoved his shoulder.

"Well okay, maybe. Just a little. But Seok has honestly been a little too overexcited about you seeing this guy. I hope you know what you're doing, Soo." And for just a brief moment, a touch of anxiety tainted carefree Luhan's features.

"I know what I'm doing. I mean I think I do. Oh who am I trying to kid? I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing. I just know I have to try ... with Jongin. I have to try, Lu. And for what it's worth, I don't think he'll hurt me - at least not on purpose anyway."

"Be careful?" Lu clasped Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"I will, Lu. And thanks."

"Hey," Jongin greeted Luhan with a half smile as he pushed open the glass doors and entered the foyer, two helmets in hand.

"My ride is here. Will you be seeing Seok later? Tell him I said take lots of fluids and go easy on the toilet paper."

"You can tell him that last bit yourself, dude. Do I look suicidal to you?" Luhan chuckled as he waved to them and headed out to the mostly deserted parking lot.

"Are you ready?" Jongin stood beside him, close enough that their shoulders made contact.

"Almost. I just need to do one more thing," Kyungsoo grinned as he took out his phone.

KS: Heard your ass is on fire today  
MS: FUCK OFF!  
KS: Don't forget to drink lots of fluids  
MS: FUCK  
KS: And be careful with the toilet paper because the burnnnnn  
MS: OFF  
KS: Washing with water will help  
MS: You are on my eternal shit list, Do Kyungsoo  
KS: Love you too  
MS: I HATE YOU

 

"Okay, now I'm ready." Kyungsoo laughed as he took the helmet from Jongin. Two minutes later they were roaring into the frigid night, faces tingling from the cold and feeding off each other's body heat as Kyungsoo clung shamelessly to Jongin's strong, lean body.

\-----

They'd ended up at the Oriole Cafe where Jongin had taken him the second time they'd met. Kyungsoo's stomach was humming contentedly and his tongue was suffused with the piquant flavors of the linguine aglio olio he'd just finished. Now, he was enjoying his first sip of the frothy vanilla latte the waiter had just placed on the table. The waiters all wore pristine, long-sleeved white shirts with long, elegant, navy blue pinstriped aprons fastened around narrow, thin twentysomething hips clad in tailored black slacks. Both male and female staff moved around the café with a kind of crackling energy that was both quick and efficient and Kyungsoo loved watching them work. He also loved watching Jongin … but in an altogether different way. The other boy’s blond fringe was much longer now and practically covered his eyes. Kyungsoo thought the long hair made Jongin look really attractive but at the same time he didn’t like the way Jongin sometimes hid his captivating dark brown irises behind its golden length.

"You just had the chicken pie a few days ago, Jongin. Isn't there anything else on the menu you like?" Kyungsoo asked curiously.

"I'm not really into food, I guess. If I find something I like, I tend to stick with it because I already know what to expect. If I order something new, I might hate it." Jongin explained in his usual slightly awkward, yet oddly succinct way. As he articulated his reasons for Kyungsoo, he realized that he did prefer things in his life to be safe and predictable. Like the way he always ordered pot pie and espresso when he came here. The way he always had a Corona and a cigarette at Ace's on Thursday nights, even though he didn’t necessarily enjoy either. The way he smoked when he was upset because it was just something he'd done for years. The way he usually only got upset because one or both of his parents had said or done something to anger him. The way he never let people in because he didn't want to deal with the mess that emotion always involved. He wasn't even sure why he clung so obsessively to habit, but perhaps, he thought as he gazed at the dark-haired boy sitting across the table from him, perhaps it was time to loosen the vise and just take a few steps out of his comfort zone.

"Kyungsoo? Tell me a secret. You owe me so many." Jongin abruptly changed the subject as he took a sip of his espresso. Was it just his imagination or did his coffee seem more bitter tonight? He must have puckered his forehead when he was drinking it as Kyungsoo pushed his brass-caged glass at him.

"Try my latte? You might like it."

"No. I like my espresso just fine." Jongin said a little defensively but there wasn't a whole lot of conviction in his voice.

"Just one sip," Kyungsoo insisted and Jongin eventually caved. Holding the heavy glass to his mouth, he reluctantly swallowed a mouthful of milky sweet, vanilla laced coffee. It didn’t have the robust, earthy flavor of espresso, but Kyungsoo’s latte was comforting in a way Jongin couldn’t explain. As the subtle notes of vanilla flavoured his taste buds, he felt like perhaps one day, he might venture beyond his safety zone and order something other than espresso.

"Well?” Kyungsoo watched him expectantly.

“It’s basically espresso. With milk in it.” Jongin shrugged defiantly and Kyungsoo rolled his eyes disbelievingly as he took back his coffee, but didn’t probe any further.

“Secrets, Kyungsoo. You said you’d tell me secrets about yourself that you’ve never told a single soul.” Jongin reminded him.

"Well, I'm terrified of singing in front of an audience - which is like the worst possible thing when you're a vocal major. What was I even thinking to take this course? I just hope I can find a way to overcome my stage fright.”

“But you’re in a choir?”

“That’s different. In the choir, I’m just a faceless voice in a sea of voices so there’s no fear. It’s solo performances that freak me out. I’ve never told anyone that – not even Minseok. I’ve managed to mostly avoid singing solo over the years, but in two weeks’ time, I’ll have to sing Gravity in front of a room full of strangers. I hope I don’t freak out completely and just stand there, paralyzed while everyone stares.” Kyungsoo sounded and looked both worried and a little desperate as his palms lay flat on the beige, table clothed surface of the table.

“You won’t freeze, Kyungsoo. You won’t.” Jongin said quietly as his hand slowly covered the back of Kyungsoo’s palm - not caring at all that they were in a crowded restaurant. Warm fingers curled reassuringly around Kyungsoo’s smaller fingers and held on tight. With all Jongin’s past encounters it had all been about the physical, about getting that rush. There had been no space for, and no real need for emotional connection. But with Kyungsoo, just being with him - it was enough. Or maybe it wasn't. Jongin just knew he needed him nearby in every way that counted. And in a gesture that was mostly foreign to him, Jongin offered Kyungsoo words of comfort and reassurance.

\------

Another week drifted past - making it 21 days since the day Jongin had first seen Kyungsoo in the stained glass practice room. The two boys spent almost every passing day together and even Minseok had stopped treating Jongin with utter contempt as he grudgingly acknowledged that Jongin seemed to genuinely want to be with Kyungsoo. He continued to remain aloof around Jongin though, in spite of Kyungsoo’s efforts to break the ice between them. Jongin wasn’t particularly inclined to meet him halfway either, so the two boys ignored each other almost completely, much to Kyungsoo’s unending chagrin and Luhan’s eternal amusement.

Fortunately, the meeting between Kyungsoo and Tao and Kris had gone much better. Jongin had brought Kyungsoo over to meet them after Kyungsoo’s Thursday class at the Community Centre. Kris had declared that it was ridiculous that an adult male Kyungsoo’s age had never played a game of pool in his life and Tao and Kris had decided to right this terrible wrong. One pool lesson later, they’d discovered that (1) the angelic looking choirboy was no pushover, (2) he made Jongin smile and (3) he was a natural at pool. But it was the second fact that really sealed the deal for them.

Last but certainly not least, it had not escaped the notice of Kyungsoo’s eagle-eyed Umma that her son was seeing someone. He was singing around the house more often, he was visibly distracted when he went about his chores and the most telling detail: he rarely argued with her when she nagged him. The only times he’d been like this were at the outset of the two serious relationships he’d had since coming out, that she’d known about. After one week of watching her son moon around the house, she sat him down at the kitchen table.

“Bring him over for dinner on Friday night.”

“What? Did I miss something, Umma? Kinda confused here.”

“Your friend, the one who’s making you all lovestruck, bring him over for dinner on Friday. I want to meet him.” Kyungsoo’s umma was a tiny woman with a heart-shaped face and passionate eyes. But no one in the family was deceived by her diminutive size, if Umma said _jump_ , you asked _how high_ if you knew what was good for you.

“I. am. not. lovestruck.” Kyungsoo protested stubbornly.

“Pleeeeaaase.” Umma snorted loudly. “You’d better tone it down before your noonas notice or you’ll be getting shit about how lovestruck you are for the next two years.”

“I said I’m not –”

“7.30, Friday night. No buts, Do Kyungsoo.” Umma said just before she left the room.

“What the hell just happened?” Kyungsoo sat at the kitchen table, still in a daze.

\-----

Jongin was stressing over what to wear, which was not something he did. He chided himself because when had he ever cared a shit what other people thought about him. But it looked like he did care. When it came to Kyungsoo and his family he cared a lot. Rifling through his closet, he eventually pulled out two hangers draped with dark fabric that Minjung Ahjumma had pressed to smooth perfection. As he removed the first item of clothing from the wooden hanger, Jongin recalled how he used to like watching Minjung Ahjumma do the ironing. Jongin's parents had enrolled Jongin in an exclusive boys' boarding school in the year he turned ten. Sevenoaks Academy was situated in an isolated part of Vermont - its ivy-shrouded walls surrounded by a maple forest which burned with a muted green glow in summer and blazed with a red, green and gold light in autumn. Despite its stunning physical beauty, though, Sevenoaks was a cold and unfriendly place and Jongin hated it with all the fury his ten year old heart could hold. So when he was back for the summer, whenever he could, when he wasn’t packed away to some summer camp, Jongin liked to hang out in the warmth of the laundry room with Minjung Ahjumma.

_"Jonginnie, why are you here? Don't you have anything better to do?" Minjung Ahjumma would tsk at him, her hands never stopping as she straightened the grey pinstriped fabric with her left hand and guided the steaming Tefal iron over the wrinkled landscape of his father's expensive business shirt with her right. Minjung Ahjumma always asked him why he liked to hang around when she was ironing and he never gave her a satisfactory answer - he wasn't even sure he had one, truth be told. He just knew that he found it comforting to watch the steam puff out from the sides of the iron, and linger briefly on the surface of the fabric before it drifted upward in an almost invisible mist. He found it comforting to watch Minjung Ahjumma's untiring and sure movements as she ironed item after item of clothing for the Kims. Her hair was always cut in a short, straight bob that swung softly around her kind face. It was nothing like the long, and ever changing elaborate hairstyles Jongin’s mother favored. Minjung Ahjumma’s round face and plain features were almost always makeup free – except for a touch of lipstick when she felt like it. He liked that she had an expressive face that smiled at him when she was pleased with him and became all fierce when he did naughty things like eating rice cakes without washing his hands, or tracking dirt all over the kitchen floor after he’d been playing out in the backyard. He just liked Minjung Ahjumma, he liked her so much. His mother’s makeup was always impeccable and she always looked beautiful, but Jongin never knew what she was thinking or feeling. He didn't know if he liked her._

Shaking off the childhood memory, Jongin put on the black, cashmere knit turtleneck he usually wore for formal dinners, and tucked it into his black jeans. He moved to stand in front of the bathroom mirror and carefully removed the fine piece of metal from his lower lip. He didn’t want Kyungsoo’s Umma to hate him on sight so he'd decided it would be best if he tried to look as normal as possible. He examined himself in the mirror and did a double take - he was still unused to his reflection. It would have to do though, for now.

\------

The doorbell rang at exactly 7.24 p.m. and Kyungsoo had practically run to the door because God forbid, one of his noonas should get there first and start interrogating Jongin in the most traumatizing way possible. His mind was whirling with all these mental images when he swung open the door so he was completely unprepared for the sight that met him. It was Jongin, and yet it wasn’t. He was beautiful in the same way Jongin was but his hair was a rich shade of dark mahogany. Kyungsoo was expecting blond Jongin, not this Jongin who was even more beautiful than blond Jongin if that was even humanly possible.

"Jongin what did you ...?!!"

"Your umma isn't crazy about dumb ass blond Asians and my dark roots have been showing for weeks. It was time."

“What did you do?!”


	9. Ballad

It was 7.24, and the brass porch light hung suspended from the ceiling overhead, casting a milky amber lampglow over Jongin's tall, slim frame. Standing outside the pristine, no-nonsense white door of the Do family home, Jongin’s body thrummed with a mixture of anticipation and dread. On the one hand, he was curious to meet Kyungsoo's mother and the rest of his family, but on the other, he feared that they wouldn't accept him - that they would find him wanting. But Jongin had never been the kind to walk away from a challenge, as long as there was something at stake which was important to him. And Kyungsoo most definitely meant something to him, Jongin thought as he pressed the doorbell. Nervously, he smoothed the fall of hair off his forehead, brushed non-existent wrinkles from the front of his jet black cashmere turtleneck, and straightened his black leather jacket. Before he had a chance to fidget with his jeans, the door swung wide open and just like that, Kyungsoo was standing there – slightly out of breath and handsome in fitted white jeans and an aubergine sweater. He was smiling as he opened the door but his mouth quickly formed an ‘o’ of surprise as he took in Jongin’s changed appearance.

"Jongin what did you ...?!!" Kyungsoo continued to stand in the doorway, clearly still in shock as he hadn’t let go of the doorknob.

"Your umma isn't crazy about dumb ass blond Asians and my dark roots have been showing for weeks. It was time." Jongin gave a wry smile. "I hope you like it because I’m going to have to buy Kris and Tao lunch and dinner for three days. I was supposed to leave my hair blond for at least 6 weeks so I had to bribe them into letting me cut it short. Evil assholes." He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair self-consciously.

"What did you do?!" Kyungsoo was still wide-eyed.

"You don't like it? I can dye it back if you want." Jongin’s hand fell to his side slowly as he watched Kyungsoo, the expression on his face teetering between worry and amusement.

"NO! This is just ... I need a moment to get used to it. I wasn't expecting you to not be blond tonight."

Jongin had always been beautiful to Kyungsoo but this beautiful stranger in front of him almost had him on his knees. He had removed the black piercing from his upper lip and the black knit turtleneck concealed his angel wing tattoos completely, making him look almost urbane and sophisticated. Almost … because there a wildness about Jongin which expensive, elegant clothes couldn't quite suppress. Kyungsoo couldn't help but admire the physical beauty before him but he abhorred the idea of Jongin covering up his tattoos and taking off his piercing. And it upset him even more that Jongin had even thought he had to hide such an essential part of himself. He would tell Umma about the tattoos and the piercing soon and she would just have to deal with the truth whether she liked it or not. But for now, he wasn’t going to sabotage Jongin’s efforts to look “respectable” in Umma’s eyes.

"Are you going to let me in, Soo? This jacket is expensive and warm but it's getting kinda cold out here."

“Kyungsoo! Is that your friend? Show him in then,” a woman’s voice drifted out from inside the house.

“Umma, we’ll be right back! I need to show Jongin something, ok? Ten minutes!” Kyungsoo yelled over his shoulder, his eyes never breaking eye contact with Jongin’s.

“Make sure you wear a jacket!”

“’Kay!” Kyungsoo replied before stepping out into the cold night and shutting the door firmly behind him.

“You didn’t bring a jacket,” Jongin stated the obvious and Kyungsoo ignored him as he grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

“What are we doing?” he asked quietly as they left the driveway and Kyungsoo took him to the end of the street.

“Why did you …?” Kyungsoo’s fingertips grazed Jongin’s lip where the piercing usually was.

“I didn’t want to ... I don’t know, i didn't want to freak your mom out?”

“Forget my mom. You don’t need to impress her.” Kyungsoo said earnestly as he placed his palm over Jongin’s cheek.

“But I want to, Soo.” Jongin said and a tiny rip opened up in Kyungsoo's heart at the subtle thread of need running through Jongin’s voice.

“Is that why you wore this too? Because you wanted to hide the tattoos?” Kyungsoo fingered the soft knit collar of Jongin’s turtleneck, the cashmere feeling buttery soft between his fingertips.

“I didn’t want the tatts to get in the way.”

“They won’t, Jongin. I promise.” Kyungsoo held both of his hands in his.

“They make people look at me different – make them judge me.”

“I’ll deal with my family, Jongin. You shouldn’t have to change who you are because of them.”

“You thought I was going to mug you the first time we met. And you were trying to run away when I first spoke to you. It’s happened to me lots of times. I don’t want to see that look on your umma’s face the first time I meet her. I just want a … chance.”

“I …”

“Just let me do this. The first few times. Until she gets to know me better. Please?” Jongin's voice was quiet, quiet as the hushed whisper of snowfall.

“Oh Jongin. Just remember that it doesn't matter, ok? The tatts - they don't matter to me and ultimately, they won't matter to Umma. She's over protective sometimes and she may stomp on the ground and yell a bit but she always comes through for me. That's why I told her I was gay years ago. She knows what's important. She'll see beyond the tatts so I don't want you to feel you need to hide anything that's a part of you.” Kyungsoo sighed sadly as he moved closer to Jongin and wrapped his arms around him. And Jongin released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and sank hungrily into Kyungsoo’s embrace. Kyungsoo reached up to kiss Jongin, enjoying the feel of Jongin’s soft, bare lips beneath his, with no cold metal to for his tongue to navigate around today. Lacy wisps of white vapor escaped as their mouths came together and drew apart, and Kyungsoo whispered Jongin's name as he learned and relearned the contours of his mouth.

“We should go back in. You must be cold.” Kyungsoo could feel Jongin’s warm breath caressing his forehead and his arms pulling him close as he spoke, “You don’t have a jacket on. You should have listened to your mother, Soo.” Jongin said teasingly before groaning as Kyungsoo punched him on the arm.

“That’s not funny, Jongin.” Kyungsoo glared at him before leaning against his chest, smiling as he felt the distant beating of Jongin's heart beneath his cheek. Sighing, Kyungsoo agreed reluctantly, "I'm so not looking forward to the noise, but you’re right, we need to go back in. I should warn you, my family is really loud okay? I mean it's just this wall of noise sometimes and my dad and I just give up. Maybe they'll behave themselves because you're here but I can't really see that happening."

"You're exaggerating." Jongin scoffed as they walked back up the driveway, fingers entwined.

"I'm not. I wish I were." And it was then Kyungsoo stopped in his tracks as realization dawned on him that he hadn't seen Jongin's white Yamaha, "I didn't see your motorbike. Please tell me someone didn't steal it."

"It's really cold tonight so I took the car instead."

"You have a car? Then why do you use the motorbike?"

"I like the motorbike, Soo. And the car ... was something my parents insisted on getting me when I turned 18. I didn't want it but they've never cared much about what i think anyway. So I don't use it much unless it's really cold or wet or snowing."

"Is that it?" Kyungsoo turned and pointed at the sleek, silver SUV parked on the street. He hadn't noticed it earlier because he'd been so preoccupied with Jongin's metamorphosis.

"Yeah. My parents chose it and just gave me the keys on 18th birthday."

"It's an Audi?" Kyungsoo didn't know much about cars but he did recognize the four interlocking rings on the grill.

"A Q3. It's a good car but ... I don't really think of it as mine." Jongin stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact and Kyungsoo took it as a cue that he didn’t want to discuss it.

"Okay. C’mon, we'd better go back in." Kyungsoo began towing him across the dimly lit driveway.

\-----

The sitting room was done in warm earth colors - siennas, coppers, beiges and browns - and Jongin liked the way everything was put together. It appealed to his artist's eye for color. The cosy and welcoming Do family home was also the antithesis of the Kim family residence which was decorated mainly in elegant, but forbiddingly cold shades of black, white and silver.

"You must be Jongin," a petite, middle-aged woman with perceptive eyes offered her hand. She was pretty in that soft, slightly faded way in which women of a certain age were attractive. And she was smiling at him with curious eyes.

"Hello, ahjumeoni." Jongin bowed slightly and shook her hand. He was careful to use his right hand - the one without the finger tattoos. Kyungsoo felt a little twinge that Jongin felt he had to conceal them, but Kyungsoo suspected the tattoos themselves were probably just another way for Jongin to hide himself. To his great relief, Umma continued to observe Jongin inquisitively – not showing any outward signs of agitation at all.

After Jongin had greeted Kyungsoo's Umma, he greeted her husband. Kyungsoo's Appa was a kind looking, reserved and rather distracted looking man. At a glance, Jongin could see that Kyungsoo had gotten his fire from his mother and his calmness from his father.

"So you're the boy who's got my brother all lovestruck." A tall, slim woman in her early to mid-20s appeared in the doorway. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and and had an intelligent stare that made Jongin feel like he was being closely scrutinized and assessed.

"Noona!" Kyungsoo protested loudly and Jongin couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"I hope so." He gave her a disarming smile while Kyungsoo shot him a dirty look.

"I am NOT lovestruck." Kyungsoo said adamantly while his noona snorted in disbelief.

"This is Hyewon, Kyungsoo's middle sister. She's studying law at Carlisle." Kyungsoo's mom interjected before things could escalate between the two siblings.

"And I'm Hyeyoon." Slightly plump and around 5' 4", Kyungsoo's eldest sister had a chubby cheeked toddler balanced on her hip. The one year old looked tired and cranky and Jongin eyed him warily – hoping he wouldn’t launch into a massive temper tantrum anytime soon because he was showing all the signs. Kyungsoo had told him a week ago that Hyeyoon's husband was an irrigation engineer who had been assigned to a project in Uganda for six months. It hadn't made sense to bring baby Seungchae to a Third World country, so Hyeyoon had moved back in with her family until he returned from overseas. "So now my house is even noisier!" Kyungsoo had groaned. But he'd also added it was kind of nice having a baby around - when he wasn't crying anyway.

“Right, now that everyone has met Jongin, let’s just start dinner, shall we?” Umma said cheerfully and everyone shuffled out of the sitting room. Jongin hung back a little and whispered to Kyungsoo, “They don’t seem very noisy?” And Kyungsoo replied ominously, “Wait. You’ll see.”

\-----

Kyungsoo’s Umma and his sisters talked a lot, and they did it animatedly and loudly – ever so loudly. They dissected and argued over every minutia of their lives while Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and Jongin listened in interested amusement. He had never been in the epicenter of such conversational chaos and he wasn’t quite sure how to react, but after the initial shock, he found himself almost enjoying the noise. It was refreshing compared to the tomblike silence of his house. During the course of dinner, Jongin was interrogated on everything from what he was studying to what his parents did, to how he and Kyungsoo had met. Before he had a chance to even compose his answer to the last question, Kyungsoo interrupted to say it was really none of their business but since they wanted to know, they’d met at a bus-stop and that was all either of them was going to say on the matter. Hyewon inhaled deeply like she was about to pepper them with more questions but her elder sister took one look at Jongin’s guarded expression and Kyungsoo’s mutinous one and changed the topic.

At some point, Hyewon informed everyone that there was a cute guy in her Constitutional Law class who kept staring at her, and whom she was positive would ask her out by the end of the month. Kyungsoo’s Umma complained that her new food processor was the most useless thing ever and it was driving her up the wall. Hyeyoon cheerfully announced that Seungchae had just cut a new tooth. Umma mentioned that the Parks across the street were going back to Korea for the Christmas holidays. There was just an endless stream of data pouring forth and Jongin was fascinated by all of it. And last but not least, there was the aggressive debate between the three women about some Korean drama called _The Heirs_. Jongin didn’t have a clue what was going on and calmly ate his rice and bulgogi and kimchi jjigae, while the women disagreed over the way the plot was developing and analyzed the actions of the characters. Like Jongin, Kyungsoo and his father were eating stoically and not contributing at all to the conversation. As Jongin took a sip of water, he felt Kyungsoo’s hand settle gently on his thigh. Then Kyungsoo leaned in close and asked him in hushed tones, “How’re you holding up?” and Jongin nodded as if to say, “I’m fine.” And he was fine, he really was.

\-----

After dinner, Jongin found himself seated in the living room with Kyungsoo’s Umma and Hyewon noona while Kyungsoo helped his father to prepare coffee. He had tried to join the other men in the kitchen but Umma had insisted that he stay out here because he was a guest. The dining table had conveniently camouflaged the tattoos on his left hand as he held his chopsticks and ate with his right. But now Jongin felt exposed as he sat awkwardly on the sienna hued couch. Nervously, he curled his fingers and rested his fist beside his thigh, keeping the letter tattoos as far out of sight as possible.

“So Jongin, how did you and my brother meet?” Hyewon asked.

“Um, like Kyungsoo said, we met at a bus-stop. Near the Community Center where he teaches.”

“Do you teach there too, Jongin?” Umma asked as she dandled an irritable Seungchae. Hyewoon had apparently gone upstairs on some mysterious errand, and left the baby with her.

“No, no I don’t, ahjumeoni. I just happened to be in the area.” Jongin didn’t think it was a good idea to mention that he’d been hanging out at a bar nearby. Then before the women could ask him any more tough questions, Seungchae decided to start screaming and crying at ear-shattering levels. The baby's grandmother stood up quickly and tried to calm him down. Cooing and singing to the howling Seungchae, she walked around the sitting room, rocking him, but his wails only got increasingly loud. After a few minutes, Hyewon tried her luck since there was still no sign of the baby’s mother. Jongin watched silently as she, too, failed to quieten the baby. Finally, after watching the two women struggle with the baby for a few more minutes, he spoke up, “Can I try?”

"You have experience with babies?" Hyewon asked dubiously.

"A little."

"Just pass the baby to him, Hyewon. He can't do much worse with Seungchae than we've done." Umma instructed impatiently and Hyewon reluctantly handed a red-faced bawling Seungchae over to Jongin, who took him carefully and confidently into his arms.

"Hush, baby, hush," he said slowly and gently in his low, husky voice as little Seungchae howled, his little fists held high. Holding him close to his chest, Jongin walked sedately to the window, stroking the baby's back in comforting, downward movements. He stopped in front of the window and began swaying his arms and singing in an almost whisper that only he and Seungchae could hear,

_When my time comes_  
Forget the wrong that I've done  
Help me leave behind some  
Reasons to be missed  
Don't resent me  
And when you're feeling empty  
Keep me in your memory  
Leave out all the rest  
Leave out all the rest 

Jongin repeated the verse a second time and by halfway through, the little body in his arms had stopped its angry fidgeting and the wracking sobs were paced further apart. By the end of the third round, baby Seungchae was sleeping fitfully in Jongin's arms as he hugged him to his chest and breathed in the pure, sweet fragrance of baby bath soap and sleeping baby.

"Thank you, Jongin. You did a great job of calming him down. I'll take him now." Hyeyoon was beside him with arms held out and Jongin felt a slight pang as he passed the sleeping baby back to his mother. Then Jongin looked up to find the entire Do family staring, awestruck at him - Kyungsoo, included.

"Do you have a much younger brother or sister, Jongin?" Umma asked point blank.

"I ... no, I'm an only child."

"Then how are you so comfortable with a crying baby?"

"Minjung ahjumma who cleans my house - she has two grandchildren. Her daughter drops them off twice a week at my house because she works on those days. They're 3 and 5 now, but they've been coming over since they were babies. I used to help ahjumma calm them down - usually when she was in the middle of cooking."

"I see." Umma nodded thoughtfully, "But your parents are okay with the cleaner bringing her grandkids to their house? It's not exactly, well, professional?"

"Minjung ahjumma has been with us since I was 8. And my mother didn't want to deal with the house not being cleaned 2 days out of 6 so she agreed to it. She's never home during the day anyway so it doesn't matter to her."

"I see."

Kyungsoo shook his head mentally – it was never a good thing when Umma said I see twice in 5 minutes. But he shoved that concern out of the way as he went back to pondering on Jongin's ability with babies. It was yet an additional layer to the conundrum that was Kim Jongin. He wondered what he'd surprise him with next.

_Ping. Ping ping ping. Ping._

"C'mon!" Kyungsoo grabbed Jongin by the hand and pulled him out the front door. "It's sleet!" Kyungsoo yelled ecstatically as he flung his arms out, palms up. Jongin had never in his life gotten excited about weather but he held his arms out, wincing a little as the frozen raindrops stung his face and his palms. He stared at the tiny crystal spheres on his palm for the seconds it took before the heat of his skin melted them.

"BOYS GET IN HERE BEFORE YOU CATCH A CHILL! DON'T BE IDIOTS!" Umma was bellowing from the threshold and Kyungsoo waved at her cheerfully and she waved her fist agitatedly in return.

"We’d better go inside now before she goes ballistic. Anyway, that shit hurts after a while." Kyungsoo laughed and he turned to look up at Jongin, eyes alight and smiling so radiantly that Jongin's heart forgot how to beat for a little while. Three weeks ago, if someone had told him he’d be having dinner with his boyfriend’s family and catching sleet in his palms in front of their house, he would have scoffed at them and told them to fuck off. And yet here he was and what was more, he wasn’t resenting it. He didn’t do boyfriends and he didn’t do families. What was even happening to him?

Kyungsoo’s Umma was still standing by the door when they re-entered the house. She had a disapproving look on her face as she told Kyungsoo off for running out of the house like a maniac, putting himself and Jongin at risk of catching pneumonia. “You didn’t even wear any jackets!” she added to her tirade.

“But we were only out there for like 2 minutes, what’s the worst that could’ve happened?”

“Do not sass me, Soo. Anyway, it’s not safe to drive on the roads with all that sleet so Jongin, you’re spending the night.” Umma announced firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Kyungsoo will lend you some clothes to sleep in - although they might be a bit of a squeeze for you. You’re so much taller and larger than him. The pants will be really short I think. My son stopped growing when he was 16 -“

“Umma, stop. Please. You're over sharing. Jongin doesn't need to hear about my growth patterns. And if you could leave me a few shreds of dignity by not sharing any more embarrassing life details with Jongin, that would be really good. Please? I've precious little dignity left as it is after tonight's dinner since you were like a leaky bucket telling Jongin every embarrassing thing that's happened to me since I was two." Kyungsoo said sarcastically.

“I barely told Jongin anything, for heaven’s sake. I need to save up some stories for the next dinner, see?”

“You can’t be serious?!” Kyungsoo shouted in disbelief.

“When do I ever joke?” Umma raised an eyebrow at him.

\-----

It was past midnight when they finally said goodnight to the rest of the Do family. Jongin sat on the edge of Kyungsoo's neatly made, queen size bed and watched while Kyungsoo rummaged around in the closet for some suitable sleep clothes. Almost as an afterthought, Jongin sent a brief text message to his mother before placing his phone on top of Kyungsoo’s prussian blue comforter: Staying at a friend's. Sleet on the roads.

"This should be big enough." Kyungsoo said contemplatively - biting the corner of his lip as he stretched the dove gray cotton fabric across Jongin's broad shoulders. Jongin watched Kyungsoo's expressive face and the way he chewed on his bottom lip and he had to smile at how earnest Kyungsoo was in everything he did. He also had to tell himself to stop staring at that tempting lower lip, but that was another story.

"And this will be a little short for you but it should fit." Kyungsoo held up a pair of navy blue plaid flannel drawstring pajama pants. Not saying anything, Jongin's arms slid around Kyungsoo's waist and he pulled him closer, settling him between his knees before he buried his face in the other boy's chest, breathing in his male scent and absorbing his warmth.

"Soo?"

"Mmmm?" Kyungsoo hummed as he stroked the back of Jongin's head.

"Do you think your mom likes me?" Jongin's words were slightly muffled by the aubergine colored fibers of Kyungsoo's woolen sweater.

"Of course she likes you. She mentioned a “next dinner”. Umma is pretty direct. Also, if she didn't like you she wouldn't have told you so many embarrassing things about me that you could use to blackmail me with. She's horrible. I can't believe she told you so much ugh." Kyungsoo grumbled, his hand curving itself around Jongin's nape.

"Well, I think she's great." Jongin said quietly.

“She is, actually. But if you tell her I said that I will deny everything.” Kyungsoo chuckled. Then Jongin’s phone buzzed. _Message from Mother: Noted._ Kyungsoo’s heart fell at the impersonal response. Jongin gave the screen a desultory glance and said nothing, opting to bury his face back in Kyungsoo’s chest. Kyungsoo ached for him but he didn’t ask Jongin about it because he didn’t think he’d want to talk about it.

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo’s palm rubbed soothing circles on Jongin’s soft cashmere clad back.

“Hmm?” Jongin mumbled as his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of Kyungsoo’s neck.

“I miss seeing your tattoos. Maybe it’s time you tried my shirt on for size.”

“Soo, did you just … ask me to strip?” Kyungsoo could feel the imprint of Jongin’s smile against his skin.

“Of course not. I asked you to _try on_ my sleep shirt.” 

“If you say so.” Jongin chuckled as he got ready to take off his turtleneck. He paused for a little while as he realized Kyungsoo had never actually seen him shirtless, and he felt self-conscious all of a sudden.

“Well? What are you waiting for, Jongin?” Kyungsoo held up the gray long-sleeved tee helpfully and Jongin shut his eyes and took the sweater off. Jongin heard the sharp intake of breath before he saw the look of utter captivation on Kyungsoo’s face. And the next thing he knew, Kyungsoo had one hand on the tattoo on his arm and the other on Jongin’s neck.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kyungsoo said simply just before he kissed the embellished skin on first Jongin’s neck, and then his arm. Meanwhile, Jongin gasped at the gentle contact of Kyungsoo’s lips and tongue against his marked skin, and of his hands tentatively exploring his chest.

“Promise me you won’t hide your tattoos again, Jongin.” Kyungsoo’s expression was solemn as he said the words.

“I can’t do that.” Jongin shook his head quietly.

“Promise me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“All right, I’ll accept that for now. Now you’d better put this on before you catch a chill and more importantly, you need to cover yourself up so I don’t end up attacking you under my parents’ roof because that just sounds wrong on so many levels.” Kyungsoo sighed as he carefully fit the collar of the gray shirt over Jongin’s head and helped guide his arms through the sleeves. It had always been too big for Kyungsoo but it was a perfect fit for Jongin.

“Thanks.” Jongin sighed and enveloped Kyungsoo tightly in his arms and somehow the other boy knew Jongin wasn’t just thanking him for the shirt.

“We’d better get ready for bed then. I’ll go wash up first and I’ll leave a new toothbrush on the sink for you to use, okay?”

“Okay.”

\-----

They spent the next hour lying in bed, arms and legs entwined as they talked and exchanged lazy kisses. Maybe it was because they both knew that Umma was just 15 feet away but they couldn’t bring themselves to do much more than kiss and cuddle. Just before they drifted off to sleep, Kyungsoo asked Jongin what song he’d sung to little Seungchae that had calmed him down so and he burst into unrestrained laughter when Jongin admitted that it was an a capella version of the Linkin Park song _Leave Out All the Rest_.

“Oh my God, my boyfriend sang a rock song to my nephew?” Kyungsoo used the word ‘boyfriend’ without thinking and then corrected himself because they had never actually talked about such things to each other, “I’m sorry Jongin, I didn’t mean to say –”

“Boyfriend? Why wouldn’t you say that? It’s the truth after all. Now go to sleep.” Jongin said just before he kissed him good night one last time and settled back into a spooning position. Kyungsoo ached with unspoken joy as he said ‘goodnight’ and snuggled closer to the warmth against his back that was Jongin. And as Kyungsoo’s eyelids slowly drooped shut, he thanked the weather gods for sending sleet …


	10. Romance

Jongin wasn't sure what had woken him but it was silent outside, and the room was still enveloped in moody, charcoal gray shadows. Normally Jongin would just have lain on his side, tucked one upturned palm under his cheek, tethered his bolster closer and gone back to sleep. But this morning wasn't like normal mornings. The mattress wasn't as unyielding, and the sheets and quilt cover weren't made from 700 thread count Egyptian combed cotton, and he wasn't holding onto a bolster. For the first time in his life, Jongin wasn't sleeping alone. The handful of times he'd had sex, it had never been in his bed and he'd never stayed long enough to fall asleep with, or wake up beside anyone. And yet here he was, curled up against a compact warm body and Jongin had never felt more luxury than the smooth texture of Kyungsoo's skin. 

The sweet essence of summer apples and Kyungsoo teased his senses and he pressed his nose against the column of skin, bluish and ethereal in the liquid halflight, and breathed him in. Crisp, midnight black hair tickled Jongin's nose as he nuzzled Kyungsoo's nape, and the other boy's gentle snores both calmed him and made him feel achey all at the same time. He tried not to think about why his chest felt heavy and took another whiff of apple scented shampoo as it clung faintly to Kyungsoo's hair.

The other boy lay slumbering and Jongin didn't think he'd ever get over how small he felt in his arms - small but never fragile though, because Kyungsoo had a tensile strength to him and anyone who knew him at all would know he was anything but weak. In fact, Jongin sometimes suspected Kyungsoo was much stronger than he himself could ever be. He felt selfish for doing it but he knew he would continue to secretly lean on Kyungsoo's quiet strength. 

He reached for his phone and squinted at the display. It was 6.43 am. _Still so early_ , Jongin smiled as he placed his palm on Kyungsoo's collarbones and felt the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. 

"Soo," he whispered in his ear but the rhythm of his snores remained constant. "Soo," he blew gently on the back of Kyungsoo's ear and kissed his nape, his lips skating across warm canvas.

"Jongin? What is it? What time is it?" Groggily, Kyungsoo stirred and opened his eyes, dragging his hand over his face. He had the most spectacular case of bed head Jongin had ever seen, but he still managed to look sexy and Jongin couldn't help caressing the flyaway strands. 

"It's around 6.45." 

"God, that's early! Is there something wrong? Why are we up?" Worry suffused Kyungsoo's features as he turned to face Jongin - abruptly awake now. 

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to ..." Jongin's words trailed off as he lost his nerve and retreated behind a pillow. 

"Just wanted to ...?" Kyungsoo was smirking now as he pulled the pillow forcibly from Jongin's face.

"Who knows when we'll have a chance to wake up together again? I didn't want to waste any time." Jongin admitted more than a little sheepishly because he'd never been a cheesy person and he'd never been one for admitting his feelings about anything. But Kyungsoo continued to conjure truth after truth from his lips without even trying.

"Oh Jongin," Kyungsoo said as he hugged him tight and kissed the angel wings that arced across the other boy's neck. 

"It's not every night you get sleet, Soo." Jongin said as he wrapped one arm around Kyungsoo's narrow shoulders, and the other around his waist. And for just a little while they didn't think at all and just enjoyed being in each other's orbit. 

"I didn't have a chance to tell you last night, but I really like this dark hair on you. I like it so much more than the blond." Kyungsoo held some fine strands of mahogany between his thumb and index finger.

"That's good, because it would have been a pain in the ass if I'd had to dye it again." Jongin gave a half smile.

"Jongin? Did you mean what you said? About the boyfriend thing? Because I don't want you to think I was trying to pressure you into anything because I wasn't."

"I don't react well to pressure, Soo. I wouldn't have said it unless I meant it." Jongin's lips moved over Kyungsoo's forehead in what he hoped was a tender gesture. Jongin wasn't sure but he thought maybe he was getting better at this showing-people-how-you-feel thing. 

"Have you ever even had a boyfriend?" Kyungsoo raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

"Um ... no."

"It's a lot of hard work, Jongin. You'd have to see me all the time - whether you like it or not."

"I already see you all the time, Soo." 

"Boyfriends confide in each other. They don't keep secrets - well maybe some but not really important ones. Like if you're hurting or if you're two timing me, it's mandatory to tell. No buts."

"Why would I cheat on you?" Jongin held Kyungsoo by the shoulders and chuckled softly. 

"Well, you told me once you've had a few one night stands."

"But those were one night stands, Soo. I never saw them again. It was about getting caught up in the physical - I never cared for them or cared to know them."

"That's not a good way to be, Jongin." Kyungsoo, who had never judged him, looked slightly disapproving now and for the first time in years, Jongin discovered he had a conscience because he suddenly regretted ever having laid eyes on those five boys in his past. 

"They weren't anything like you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Kyungsoo glared at him and punched his arm.

"Are you jealous?"

"NO!"

"You sound upset. Don't be upset." Jongin watched him nervously, not quite sure what to do next.

"I. Am. Not. Upset." 

"Ok." Jongin said quietly and tried to pull him into a hug but Kyungsoo pushed at his chest.

"You shouldn't sleep with someone if you don't care for them. That's just wrong."

"I know, Soo. I know that now." Jongin looked at his hands awkwardly.

"Don't ever do it again. You deserve more than that, Jongin, and so does the other person."

"There won't be any more one night stands."

"How do you know there won't?" Kyungsoo's words were uttered quietly, and with a complete absence of drama, but doubt was clearly distilled in each word.

"Because you're all I need, Soo." Jongin's hands cupped his face, "You're all I need." And tenderly, he kissed Kyungsoo, who after a few seconds' resistance, kissed him back. It was a kiss that tasted of affirmation and assurance rather than passion and desire but it affected both of them just as deeply. They eventually drew apart, slightly breathless as their foreheads rested against each other's and the tips of their noses touched.

"I think you should know by now that you're not a one night stand, Soo."

"Well, we've never slept together. Maybe when we have you'll leave." Kyungsoo gave a somewhat humorless, self deprecating laugh.

"I don't think I'd even know how to leave you," Jongin sighed just before he lay his cheek against Kyungsoo's chest.

"Do you mean that?" Kyungsoo's palm reached up and began stroking the back of Jongin's head - his small, unexpected burst of insecurity and temper starting to dissipate in the wake of Jongin's sincere confession.

"I don't say much but when I do, I usually mean what I say." Jongin's fingers played with the worn out collar of his long-sleeved pajama tee.

"So we're really doing this boyfriend thing? And if we have sex, things won't be over between us? Is that what you mean to say?"

"Yes, Soo, that's what I mean to say." Jongin captured Kyungsoo's hand in his and squeezed it as tightly as he could - like Kyungsoo's hand would dissolve into grains of sand if Jongin released his grip even a fraction. "Let's not fight. I just want to enjoy waking up with you this once. Can we just do that? How did we end up fighting about one night stands?" His voice sounded mildly distraught as his thumb began drawing what he hoped were soothing circles on the back of Kyungsoo's milky pale hands.

"I don't know, I've been trying my best not to think about those guys in your past at all, but I guess it bothers me more than I was willing to admit to myself. I'm sorry, Jongin."

"I can't fix the past, Soo, but I hope you'll take a chance on me anyway."

"I was always going to, Jongin. I couldn't stay away from you even if I wanted to, you asshole." Kyungsoo tried to sound angry but there was no fire in his words. 

"Am I forgiven?"

"On one condition," Kyungsoo suddenly had a devious gleam in his eyes and Jongin watched him warily as he asked what the condition was.

"You have to sing Seungchae's lullaby to me."

"No way!" Jongin protested, a look of utter dread on his face.

But he sang it anyway, and Kyungsoo pressed his ear to Jongin's chest so he could feel the syllables vibrate through Jongin's heart. Jongin's husky voice made his breath catch as it formed the words:

_When my time comes_  
Forget the wrong that I've done  
Help me leave behind some  
Reasons to be missed  
Don't resent me 

By the time Jongin's low pitched vocals had wound themselves around the words "forget the wrong that I've done," Kyungsoo had already forgiven the damaged boy in his arms ...

\-----

The intoxicating aromas of flour and vanilla intermingled with melting hot butter and sweet maple syrup permeated the kitchen, and Kyungsoo and Jongin's stomachs clenched with hunger the second they entered the area. 

"Pancakes! Assah! Umma's pancakes are the best. And she hasn't made them in months. She must be trying to impress you, Jongin." Hyewon announced as she strode into the kitchen in their wake. Jongin hadn't a clue how to respond to her teasing or sarcasm or whatever that had been so he decided to just smile and say nothing.

"Stop giving him a hard time, noona!" Kyungsoo scolded her. 

"Soo, don't scold your noona! But honestly, Hyewon, stop giving Jongin a hard time. He's not used to your bizarre sense of humor. Did you boys sleep well?" Umma asked and Hyewon snorted loudly, her knowing expression clearly indicating that she didn't think they'd had any sleep at all. Soo shot her a dirty look that promised all manner of deferred retribution while Umma chose to ignore Hyewon's snort. She carefully placed two sunny looking yellow dishes before Kyungsoo and Jongin - each plate weighted down with a 5-high stack of perfectly formed pancakes.

Jongin wasn't a pancake enthusiast. Pancakes were mostly just insipid and overly sweet pieces of fluffy batter as far as he was concerned. But he was determined to finish every single pancake on his plate because he liked Kyungsoo's Umma. He really really liked her - in much the same way he liked Minjung Ahjumma. Finishing the food was the least of his worries though. The entire kitchen was bathed in champagne gold morning light, so there would be no question of his hiding the tattoos on his fingers if he held his left hand above table level. He was wearing his clothes from the night before so his neck and arms were well camouflaged; but it looked like he would have to somehow eat the stack of pancakes with just a fork. It was going to be a challenge.

"Jongin, what is it?" Kyungsoo whispered in his ear while Hyewon stared with open interest.

"I can't eat with my left hand." Jongin whispered back.

"I can cut them for you. But it really doesn't matter even if Umma sees them, Jongin."

"No! No, I'll manage." And so he painstakingly sawed irregularly shaped fragments of the topmost pancake with the tines of his fork, while Kyungsoo drizzled maple syrup on them. It was after he'd eaten the fourth mouthful that Umma decided to say something.

"Why don't you just eat with both your hands, Jongin? It can't be easy eating pancakes with just a fork. Use your knife too." Umma raised an eyebrow as she watched Jongin struggle.

"I ... um." A hunted expression flitted across his features. 

"If you're worried about me seeing the tattoos on your fingers and arm, there's no need to hide them because your sleeve got dragged halfway up your forearm when you were carrying Seungchae. It's nothing I haven't seen so you can stop hiding your arm under the dining table, dear." Umma stated calmly and almost nonchalantly while Kyungsoo made a valiant attempt to not choke on his milk.

"But there's more ..." Jongin both looked and sounded dismayed.

"If you mean the tattoos on your neck, Seungchae yanked your collar down too while he was screaming his little head off." She dropped the final bombshell.

There was nothing but the sound of silence for the next ten seconds - silence that was broken only by Seungchae's contented slurping noises as his mother spooned mouthful after mouthful of juk into his eager mouth, while deftly cleaning the excess off the area around his mouth. If Hyeyoon disapproved of the tattoos she showed no indication of it.

"I ... " Jongin looked down at his pancakes - clearly at a loss for words. Meanwhile Kyungsoo had taken his hand under the table. He watched his mother only a little warily because he knew that if she'd known about the tattoos since the night before and hadn't made a big deal about it, she probably wasn't ever going to. 

"They're just ... tattoos. It's nothing to get upset about. Now eat your pancakes, boys." Umma said and reached for the maple syrup which she poured carefully over her own pancakes. 

"Don't look so disappointed, Jongin. I know you were trying to be considerate by hiding them but there wasn't any need. And just so you know, babies are always messing up the best laid plans. Best get used to it. I'm sure it won't be the last time a baby disrupts things for you."

"So Jongin, where did you get them done and how much did it hurt? I've been thinking of getting a dragonfly inked on my left shoulder and ..."

"DO HYEWON WHAT DRAGONFLY TATTOO?!" Umma's voice was anything but calm now as she began interrogating her younger daughter while Kyungsoo chuckled. 

"What just happened?" Jongin asked quietly while Umma continued questioning Hyewon, waves of agitation rising off her.

"My noona is one of the worst trolls ever but once in a while she'll do something unexpected like this and save your ass. You looked like you were drowning so she distracted Umma. She probably never even thought about getting a tattoo till the moment she mentioned it to Umma."

"I swear to God, Umma, if you're going to make such a fuss over a little dragonfly, I might as well just skip it and get an actual dragon tattooed all over my back." Hyewon said casually as shoved a forkful of syrup-drenched pancake into her mouth.

"DO HYEWON, YOU-!" Umma looked like she was about to have an actual stroke when they heard two upbeat knocks on the kitchen door. Kyungsoo went to get it - more to escape the shouting than out of any interest to see who was there.

"Oh fuck! I forgot there's choir practice!" Kyungsoo yelled in horror as he saw Minseok and Luhan waving in the doorway.

"I smell pancakes! Morning, Umma!" Minseok greeted her blithely. "I haven't had your pancakes in aeons."

"Hi Umma!" Luhan kissed her on the cheek - pretending not to notice that she looked livid.

"You boys help yourself to the pancakes. DO KYUNGSOO! Did you just use the F word?!"

"Oh man." Kyungsoo shook his head regretfully while Jongin observed the mayhem in the kitchen in utter bewilderment - and none of it even had anything to do with his being covered in tattoos.

\-----

Kyungsoo had left with Minseok and Luhan in a burst of noise and exuberant goodbyes - although Minseok managed to give Jongin a sharp look before the door shut. 

"I'll do the dishes before I leave, ahjumeoni," Jongin offered. It was just the two of them left in the kitchen - the latter a bubble of serenity now that everyone had gone.

"It's all right, Jongin. I'm sure you have to be somewhere and Hyewon will do them later, once she remembers she's supposed to, the brat. And just call me Umma, dear. Everyone does." She smiled and patted his back reassuringly, which wasn't easy for her since Jongin had a good 10 inches of height on her.

"It's all right, Umma. I'll do the dishes." The word Umma felt strange on Jongin's tongue as he'd never called anyone that before. His mother had always been eomeoni or Mother. 

"Well, if you insist. But pull your sleeves up to your elbows or you'll destroy all that beautiful cashmere.

"But,"

"They're just tattoos, Jongin. They're just tattoos." 

And maybe Umma really meant it, Jongin thought as he obediently pushed his sleeves up and turned on the faucet. 

\-----

"So he isn't blond anymore? And does Umma know he's covered in tattoos underneath that expensive black turtleneck?" Minseok asked as he locked his seatbelt in place.

"Yeah, Umma knows. And she's more cool about the whole thing than you, Kim Minseok."

"Yeah, dude, maybe it's time you let that go." Luhan suggested breezily as he turned the ignition.

"He spent the night."

"What the hell?! Are you shitting me?!" Minseok turned to look at him, eyes wide with shock. 

"There was sleet last night and Umma wouldn't let him drive home."

"But why was he even at your place?"

"Umma invited him over for dinner. She wanted to meet him. And I didn't tell you about it because you have a hissy fit every time I mention his name."

"I do not have a hissy fit every time you mention his name." Minseok denied indignantly.

"Yes, you do!" Luhan and Kyungsoo retorted together.

"I do not." Minseok said mulishly before asking, "So you and him, you're a thing now?"

"Yes, Seok, we're a 'thing' now. And it wouldn't kill you to call him by name once in a while. His name is Jongin. It's not that hard to remember."

"I don't want to remember his name." Minseok gave a long suffering sigh but to Kyungsoo's great relief, his best friend didn't try to convince him to break things off with Jongin. 

It was progress. As far as Kyungsoo was concerned, it was progress.

\-----

"Tao is probably going to be pissed as hell when we show up." Jongin warned Kyungsoo as he slotted his SUV into empty parking space. The world was shrouded in a miserable gray drizzle when Jongin left his house to pick up Kyungsoo, so he'd driven the car instead of taking his bike. When Jongin reached the practice hall, Luhan still hadn't shown up yet so Minseok was still around. Fortunately, it had only been mildly awkward when Minseok and Jongin had exchanged a pair of not entirely chilly 'hello's. Progress.

"You didn't tell him we were going to eat lunch at his workplace? Why?" Kyungsoo's eyes took in the quaint shop fronts and cafés that dotted the surrounding area. Subiaco was a pretty part of town that Kyungsoo had always wanted to explore but had somehow never set foot in. When Jongin had told him he was bringing him here for lunch, Kyungsoo had been excited. Apparently Tao had gotten himself hired as a waiter at a café five days before. He'd needed the money so he could contribute to food and rental expenses even though Kris had told him in no uncertain terms that he didn't need or want any money from him.

"I didn't tell him we were coming because he'd have asked me to fuck off." Jongin chuckled, "I'd respect his wishes but I couldn't pass up a chance to see Tao in an apron." It lightened Kyungsoo's heart more than he could say to see laughter lines crease the skin around Jongin's eyes and mouth. He had been such a serious young man three weeks ago, Kyungsoo recalled, as they started walking in the direction of Café Angelus. It was 28°F and Kyungsoo was glad for the added warmth he got from having Jongin's arm draped around his shoulders. They heard an old fashioned, coppery tinkle as they pushed open a wooden door painted in a cheery shade of turquoise. It was a heated, cosy little eatery decorated with a mixture of cherubs and regal angels - gilded, wooden and crystal ones. The walls were sky blue, and fluffy white clouds had been sponge painted on them. It was all very ... exceedingly feminine, Kyungsoo thought. It was no wonder that Tao hadn't wanted Jongin to visit him at his workplace. His eyes flicked to the left so he could see the seraphim and angel wings tattooed into Jongin's skin. Wild, untamed angels and angel wings that didn't belong here, but were far more beautiful in Kyungsoo's eyes.

"Kim Jongin, I'm sure I told you never to come here." Tao hissed under his breath. His spiky blond hair was a perfect foil for the turquoise apron he wore over a plain white, v-necked long sleeved tee tucked into dark blue jeans. 

"I'm hungry, I need to eat." Jongin answered coolly.

"Eat somewhere else, for fuck's sake, and take him with you before y'all get me fired. He's been here for more than an hour and he's drunk three cups of espresso. He's going to get the shakes if he keeps it up." He pointed at a wooden table in the back corner of the café and Kyungsoo finally noticed Kris sitting in the back with his long legs stretched out beneath the table, surfing on his tablet. How Kyungsoo could have missed him in the first place when he was the biggest person in the place, not to mention the only male customer, was beyond him. The clientele seemed to consist mainly of teenage girls and women in their 20s.

"He's here too," Kyungsoo commented to no one in particular.

"Yes, apparently he's hungry too." Tao sighed, "Just join him at his table, eat, and then you can go - and take him with you." For all his so-called exasperation though, Jongin could tell from the almost smile hovering on his lips that Tao was secretly pleased that Kris cared enough to be here just so he could see him. 

Kris looked visibly relieved to finally have company, and they chatted companionably as they filled their tummies with club sandwiches, fries and chef salad. Tao probably dropped by to see if they "needed anything" far more than he had to, but thankfully, the café manager didn't seem to notice anything unusual. Their stomachs replete with food, the three of them were drinking coffee when Kyungsoo's cellphone rang.

"Umma? What ...? Where are you? Okay, we'll go over now."

"Soo?" Jongin's hand gripped Kyungsoo's forearm a little anxiously.

"Umma's car broke down. She's fine but she needs us to go get her now. She can't get hold of Appa or my sisters. Jongin, can we ...?" 

Jongin nodded quietly and handed a fifty-dollar note to Kris to pay for lunch, before guiding him quickly out of the cafe.

\-----

By the time they had Umma's Toyota Vios towed to the garage and got all the documentation sorted out, it was almost 3 pm. Umma was starving because she hadn't had a chance to eat lunch before her car broke down. 

"Let's go to the nearest mall. There'll be quite a few eating places to choose from and I can pick up some groceries before we leave. Is that ok with you, Jongin?" 

"Yes, Umma." Jongin said as he kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road.

"Umma? You're calling her Umma already?" Kyungsoo wondered aloud.

"I asked him to. What's wrong with that?"

"You only asked Seok to call you Umma six months after you met him, and Lu only started calling you that three months after meeting you the first time. You just met Jongin yesterday! Why would you ...?"

"Stop fussing, Soo." Umma scolded and refused to say another word about the matter.

\-----

They were heading out of Koreana Restaurant on the first floor of Garden City Mall and Umma was asking Jongin what he studied at Garnier. Openly curious about his paintings, she wanted to know what he painted and he explained that he worked mostly on still lifes and the occasional landscape.

"You must let me see your paintings one of these days, Jongin."

"Yes, Umma." Jongin answered, smiling in an open way that was usually anathema to him. His parents didn't show disdain for his work but then they had never taken any kind of interest in it to form any real opinion about it. It was a nice change to have an adult who wasn't a faculty member of Garnier ask about his art. As he turned away from Umma, his eyes fell on a familiar figure and he froze. 

\-----

Without warning, Jongin suddenly stopped walking and surprised, Kyungsoo and Umma too ceased moving. That was when Kyungsoo noticed the tall, sophisticated woman facing them. She looked about 40 years old, and she had long, lustrous hair which cascaded down her shoulders in elegant, chestnut waves. Her narrow black sheath flattered the feminine lines of her body, and she had completed the ensemble with an extravagant cream woolen coat and black, high-heeled stilettos. Her heart shaped face was pretty and her porcelain skin, perfect. But the woman's features were marred by lips that were just a little bit too thin, and eyes that held no emotion.

"You call this woman _Umma_?" The woman said in a glacial tone, her eyebrows raised in a perfect arc.

"Good afternoon, Mother," Jongin said politely while Kyungsoo and his mother tried not to gape.


	11. Crescendo

"Who are these people, Jongin?" Save for a single lifted eyebrow, the tall, glamorous woman's features betrayed no emotion as she watched her son impassively, waiting for some kind of answer. For all the absence of expression on her flawless face though, the woman's French manicured nails gripped the edges of her quilted black Chanel (even Kyungsoo could recognize the interlocking Cs) handbag with enough force to turn her knuckles white. Jongin had always told Kyungsoo his mother didn't care about him one way or the other but Kyungsoo wasn't so sure now that Jongin had his mother all figured out. He wasn't sure if it was bruised ego, pride or anger, but Jongin's mother was clearly not okay with her son calling another woman Umma.

"This is ... my boyfriend," Jongin's voice sounded confident despite the slight hesitation, but Kyungsoo could tell from the way Jongin's fingers curled into his palms that he was anything but calm.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Kim. I'm Kyungsoo. Pleased to meet you," Kyungsoo bowed respectfully. Mentally prepared to receive no nod of acknowledgement, Kyungsoo had to conceal his surprise when Jongin's mother inclined her head slightly - her smile civil if hardly welcoming. It could have gone much worse though and Kyungsoo was just relieved that she hadn't treated him with contempt because that would have hurt Jongin. 

"This is Kyungsoo's mother." Jongin said quietly as he turned towards Umma to introduce her.

"I'm Kang Eunju," Umma said formally as she bowed briefly. Umma's mouth was etched in that weird smile she sometimes gave her children just before she launched into a lengthy, blistering lecture on whatever they'd done to set her off. More than a little anxious, Kyungsoo could only hope and pray that she wouldn't start lecturing a total stranger (even if he secretly thought Jongin's mother deserved one). Jongin was standing in front of Kyungsoo - his back and shoulders stiff as he waited for his mother's response to Umma's greeting.

"Jang Soora." The elegantly enunciated syllables were punctuated by a polished bow and a frosty smile. Then she directed her smokily lined eyes at the much smaller woman, "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation as to why my son is calling you Umma?"

"Mother, let's talk about this later. Please." Jongin's voice was quiet. And dead. And Kyungsoo had to fight a protective urge to reach out for Jongin's hand and hold on tight. But doing that would probably make matters worse so he just took a few steps forward and stood right beside Jongin. Almost imperceptibly, Jongin moved closer so their shoulders touched.

"He's calling me Umma because I asked him too." Kyungsoo's umma answered matter-of-factly. 

"Why would you ask someone else's son to call you that? I can't think of a single plausible reason why you would." Her voice was cold and detached, like she was asking about dress sizes. All polish and sophistication and no heart. 

"I saw a need in him. And my son cares a lot for him so that makes Jongin almost my son too. My son is important to me as yours should be to you." She was still speaking in controlled tones, but Kyungsoo could see all the tells - one wrong word and Umma would go into attack dog mode and start scolding the woman before her.

"My relationship with my son is no business of yours." Jang Soora's eyes flashed with ... suppressed annoyance and indignation but her voice remained calm. And Kyungsoo recalled Jongin telling him that no one in his family ever raised their voices. It wasn't how they dealt with things. And for the first time in his life, Kyungsoo was grateful that his mother was a firebrand because it meant she at least felt things passionately.

"For Jongin's sake, I hope there is a relationship. I hope you realize what you've almost lost before it's too late." Umma's words were uttered softly but they were heavy with intent. Nervously, Kyungsoo braced himself for some form of maternal confrontation. But Jongin had no such fear for he was well aware that his mother did not do confrontations - she never had.

"I have to be somewhere." Choosing not to respond to the loaded statement, Jongin's mother abruptly made her excuses and left after executing a polite nod. Her heels clicked agitatedly as she made a brisk exit - her svelte figure growing tinier and tinier as she gained more and more distance on them. It was almost ... anticlimactic that there hadn't been a shouting match between the two mothers. 

"Jongin are you ...?" Kyungsoo's fingers wrapped securely around Jongin's elbow. 

"I'm okay. Umma, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I-"

"Don't apologize, Jongin. None of this is your fault. I hope I wasn't too rude to your mother and I hope you don't get into trouble with her later."

"We don't really talk much. I don't think we'll ever discuss what happened today."

"But Jongin, the things I said to her." Umma's eyes widened in shock. 

"She won't say anything, Umma. Trust me, she won't." Jongin gave an unconcerned smile but he leaned wordlessly on Kyungsoo as they made their way to the basement carpark.

***

The potted palms added an inviting splash of color to the corridor, the fresh green fronds hanging down delicately to almost sweep the luxuriant, deep pile beige carpet. Jang Soora did not spare a glance for the lush greenery though, as she followed the uniformed attendant to The Serenity Room where she always had her fortnightly body massage and facial. 

When she had disrobed and her expensive garments had been carefully put away by the beautician, she walked over to the treatment table before lying on her back, on a plush towel made from 100% Turkish organic cotton. As soon as she lay down, the beautician layered another towel over the long, slim lines of her nude body to keep her warm.

"Your makeup is always so perfect Mrs Kim ... why are your mascara and eyeliner smudged today? Did you get something in your eye?" Myra inquired absent mindedly as she poured some eye makeup remover on a square of facial cotton and began wiping off glimmering bronze eyeshadow in gentle strokes.

"Yes. Something got in my eye." Jang Soora said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. 

***

Jongin watched through the passenger window of the Audi as Kyungsoo escorted his mother to the front door of the Do family home. Kyungsoo's arm was draped casually around the petite woman's shoulders like it was the most natural thing to do. The most intimate gesture Jongin could remember exchanging with his mother was the not quite awkward hug she had given him when he was 12 - after he'd gotten lost in the mountains during that thunderstorm. Over the years, there had been the occasional, brief and impersonal hug but nothing like Kyungsoo and Umma's easy way with each other. Why couldn't he remember any hugs from before he was 12?

Groaning, he rested his forehead on the leather bound steering wheel. Why had Mother appeared and messed everything up?

"Jongin-ah." He heard Kyungsoo's rich whiskey voice say his name softly and he sighed, relief and comfort seeping into his skin and his bones as familiar warm fingers curled around his nape. He let Kyungsoo pull him into his arms. Safe. He felt safe. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kyungsoo stroked his hair gently.

"No." 

"Then we won't." And Kyungsoo just held his boyfriend in his arms and let him be quiet. But Jongin began talking anyway, after a few minutes had lapsed.

"So now you know what my mother is like. She's not an Umma type of mother." Jongin's voice was devoid of emotion as he played with the backs of Kyungsoo's fingers.

"She's very glamorous." Kyungsoo said carefully.

"We don't talk. She probably wouldn't notice if I left home for weeks," Jongin laughed bitterly.

"That's not true, Jongin." Kyungsoo placed his palm on Jongin's cheek; he loved the silken whisper of caramel skin beneath his own much paler skin. Even when Jongin looked broken, he was still the most ethereally beautiful creature Kyungsoo had ever seen.

"She never gives me anything. I mean no piece of herself. I see the way you and Umma are with each other and I see that my mother and I ... we have no relationship, Soo."

"Did you watch her today? Your mother?" Tenderly, Kyungsoo's fingers caressed Jongin's mahogany fringe.

"No. I usually don't. Watch her, I mean."

"She was really upset that you were calling another woman Umma."

"You've got it wrong. My mother doesn't give a shit about me or what I do." There was that flash of stubborn anger again and Kyungsoo sighed.

"You've told me she never shows any emotion when she's dealing with you but she was definitely upset. She was gripping her bag so hard her knuckles were white. And she looked kind of shaky just before she left - after Umma said she hoped you guys had a relationship for your sake. Umma regrets saying it now. She saw how your mother reacted. I think she was mumbling something about maybe your mother wants a relationship with you but she just doesn't know how? That some people don't know how to express affection and maybe it was the way she was raised and stuff. What are your grandparents like? Are they affectionate?"

"I barely know them. They live in Portland and I see them maybe once a year? They live in this big house in the suburbs. I don't know them at all really. Even as a kid I didn't see them much. They weren't into kids and Grandmother had a lot of antique breakables they didn't want me smashing by accident."

"Cousins?"

"Mother is an only child."

"So maybe your mom is the way she is because that's the only way she knows how to be."

"Mother. She's not my mom," Jongin's fingers pressed into the leather-bound steering wheel.

"Mother then. I'm just saying, Jongin, you should watch her more carefully next time. I mean watch her eyes and her hands. Maybe she took you for granted before but I think today was a shock for her. Just watch her. Okay?"

"Only because you're asking. I gave up on her years ago."

"Thank you." Kyungsoo held him close and nuzzled his cheek, "What do you want to do now? Do you want to do something together or do you want some time by yourself?"

"Together." 

"What should we do?"

"You decide."

***

"A batting cage?" Jongin chuckled as they walked through the utility glass doors of THE BATTING ZONE. 

"Hitting stuff is good for the soul. Promise!" Kyungsoo said as he paid the dour looking young man at the counter $10 for a roll of tokens. "Also, it's a good excuse for me to grope you a little when I show you how to grip and swing the bat properly."

"How do you know I can't hold a bat properly?" Jongin raised his right eyebrow sardonically. He wasn't quite back to normal yet but he was getting there. 

"You've never once mentioned playing baseball. Not that I care," Kyungsoo's grin was brimming over with suggestiveness, "Even if you were a first stringer in high school, I'm still groping you later."

And for the first time since the encounter with Jongin's mother, Jongin's laughter reached his eyes. 

***

The wintry air made it much colder tonight than it had been that first time they'd come to Belleview Park three weeks ago. The leaves that had dangled from the oak trees like minuscule aubergine lanterns were long gone, and the night sky was filled with the ghostly silhouettes of bare, black branches. The air was crisp as lemons and gossamer wisps of breath hovered around Jongin and Kyungsoo as they chatted quietly. They were comfortably ensconced on a wooden bench - Jongin's head nestled on Kyungsoo's lap and their hands interlocked on Jongin's chest. 

"Tell me a secret, Soo." Jongin said as his thumb stroked Kyungsoo's knuckles. The slightly callused texture of the skin felt good against the pad of his thumb. 

"Well, you already know I'm scared of singing solo, that's my biggest secret."

"I'm sure you have other secrets." Jongin said, as he brought Kyungsoo's hand to his lips and kissed the first knuckle. 

"I hate the way my fingers look."

"What's wrong with the way they look?" Jongin complained as he spread out Kyungsoo's fingers. 

"They're short. And stubby."

"No they're not. I love these fingers."

"Short and stubby." Kyungsoo grumbled.

"They're spatulate fingers."

"What the hell is a spatulate finger?"

"I had a roommate in boarding school who was into palmistry. He had spatulate fingers too ... see how your cuticles are narrow at the base and broader at the top? Like a spatula." Jongin continued playing with Kyungsoo's fingers.

"Were you guys dating?" Kyungsoo asked suspiciously.

"Hell, no! He was about as straight as they come. And even if he hadn't been, he wasn't really my type. Dreamy and spacey. My taste runs more to choirboys than fortune tellers." 

"Yah!" Kyungsoo smacked Jongin's shoulder in a show of mock ire and Jongin chuckled.

"Anyway, Yixing told me that people with spatulate fingers tend to be intellectual. They're supposed to be witty and interesting, with complex personalities. They tend to be workaholics but they always find some time for adventure."

"Hmmm ... I think I'm pretty straightforward. I'm not a very complex person. But other than that it's pretty accurate. What about you? What kind of fingers do you have?" Now it was Kyungsoo's turn to spread out Jongin's slender, artistic fingers.

"Yixing told me I have conical fingers, which makes me a wise, old soul. Insightful. And people with conical fingers are supposed to be creative - I guess that's true. But I'm also supposed to be a good friend and supportive and that was really weird to me at the time."

"I think you're supportive."

"I don't know anything about being supportive. You've been there there for me way more than I've been there for you."

"Well, I don't have a very dramatic life - other than the fact that I have a perpetually yelling mother and a pit bull BFF, so it's not like I've given you a lot of opportunities to be supportive. But that time I told you about my fear of performing solo? You made me feel a lot less scared."

"About that ... your concert is in 6 days, right?"

"Yeah. You said you were going. You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"Of course I'm going, Soo." Jongin kissed his palm tenderly and then he lifted his head and sat upright - his right shoulder pressing into Kyungsoo's left one. Jongin was silent for a few moments and then Kyungsoo felt the unexpected brush of cold metal against his palm.

"Jongin, what is this?" Disbelief and wonder were woven through Kyungsoo's voice as he carefully picked up the exquisite pieces of matte silver from where they lay in his palm. It was a pendant ... attached to a simple silver chain. Handcrafted angel wings had been bonded together by a single metal loop so that the two wings were eternally linked, yet moved freely and independently of each other.

"It's beautiful." Kyungsoo whispered just before he leaned in and kissed Jongin tenderly, "It's beautiful, Jongin but why ...?"

"I can't hold your hand during the performance, or be on the stage with you, so this was the next best thing I could think of. I'm only going to say this once, Soo - because it's too cheesy and embarrassing to ever repeat. Ever, ok? These wings," Jongin held the delicate pieces of metal between his index finger and thumb, "These wings are the two of us. And when you're singing on Friday night, I want you to wear them so you'll know I'm with you on the stage." Taking the chain from Kyungsoo, Jongin looped it around his neck and fastened it. The angel wings swung for a moment before coming to rest right over what should have been Kyungsoo's sternum under all the layers of winter clothing. 

"See? It's right next to your heart." Jongin placed his palm over Kyungsoo's heart. "Do you remember the first time we met, Soo? When I was in the bus and you were on the sidewalk, waving to me? I placed my palm against the glass?"

"I remember," 

"I think even then I knew I would end up loving you." Jongin smiled a little self-consciously, and a single tear escaped down Kyungsoo's cheek. He rubbed it away quickly with the back of his hand, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"I love you too, Jongin." Kyungsoo threw his arms around Jongin and rested his cheek against his chest, "I love you too."

"I know, Soo, and I'm thankful every day that I found that stained glass room all those weeks ago." Jongin's lips touched Kyungsoo's forehead before covering the other boy's lips in a lingering kiss. Then he embraced him like he would never let him go - the angel wings pressed indelibly between their rapidly beating hearts.

***

Dressed in buttery soft tartan pajama pants and an oversized long sleeve flannel tee, Kyungsoo sat in bed with the twin pendant and chain draped over his palm. His index finger trailed over the dimples and indentations of the feathers on one of the angel wing pendants, only stopping when it discovered a single letter engraved on the base of the wing. It was the letter 'J'. Excitedly, he examined the other pendant and found a letter 'K' in the same spot. His heart beat crazily as he grabbed his cellphone and began to type.

K: Why didn't you tell me the wings were engraved with our initials?!!!  
J: Ah, that. I was too embarrassed  
K: What if I'd never noticed?! Jonginnnnnn  
J: No chance of that happening, Soo. You're too nosey.  
K: KIM JONGIN WTF?!  
J: Observant then. You're too observant to not have seen the engraved letters.  
K: Does this mean I'm not a one-night stand?

Kyungsoo waited for the reply but no text came in. His fingers were poised to key in a fist-waving, angry faced message when his phone began to ring.

"You were never meant to be a one night stand, Do Kyungsoo. I wasn't even going to go near you. I think I always knew that once I did, I'd never let you go. I was supposed to stay away. I told myself to. But I never had a chance."

"Do you regret sitting next to me at that bus stop?" 

"I could never regret you, Soo. I hope you don't regret me."

"Never."

"Good. Now what pajama pants are you wearing?" Jongin asked in the most deadpan manner.

"Green tartan pajama pants. What about you?" Kyungsoo lay back on his pillows and covered himself with his quilt, smiling.

"Gray striped ones."

"Boringgggg!" Kyungsoo complained while Jongin protested that gray stripes were the coolest thing ever.

And so it went as they talked into the night—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re interested in seeing the angel pendant and in getting some idea of what kaisoo’s moms look like, go to the a/n at the end of [this page](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/554348/12).


	12. Adagio

Sunday loomed quiet and funereal as it always did in the Kim family residence. Jongin usually tried to make himself scarce before lunch so he didn't have to make pained non-conversation with whichever parent he had the misfortune to cross paths with. Today would be no exception. He'd made plans to meet Kris and Tao for lunch and had hastily dressed in a winter-fortified, white Quiksilver long-sleeved tee, black Abercrombie & Fitch hoodie and faded blue jeans bespattered with spidery blots of white and gray acrylic paint which had refused to wash out. 

_When Jongin had first stained the jeans a few months back, Minjung ahjumma had spent minutes nagging him about donning a smock when he painted so he wouldn't ruin all his clothes. He'd quietly nodded his way through her lecture as he'd always done over the years. And at the end, in the same way she'd always done, Minjung ahjumma had patted the back of his head, comfort and caring radiating from her tiny palm, while she said the same things she always said._

_"Jongin-ah?"_

_"Yes, ahjumma?"_

_"You know I scold because I worry, right? You know I worry about you?"_

_"Yes, ahjumma, I know." Jongin stared into the kindly, middle aged face, currently etched in faint lines of concern for him._

_"I want you to take better care of yourself, araso?"_

_"Araso." Jongin had assented with a half smile, and let her grip his palm tightly in between both her palms. He'd always let her do it because it made him feel good. Her palms had engulfed his in childhood but for years now, it was his palm which threatened to engulf hers._

Shoving the memories aside, he put on a red snapback with the peak turned to the back, grabbed his keys and parka, and left the room. The door whooshed quietly shut behind him and his footsteps made almost no sound as they traversed the cocoa colored deep pile carpet of the wide corridor. He hadn't walked far before he came face-to-face with his mother. Even at home, she always looked perfectly turned out. Today, she wore champagne gold jersey palazzo pants with a matching long sleeved tunic. Jongin guessed that the outfit was supposed to be casual at-home wear, but to him it just looked stylish and expensive - like everything else his mother wore. The make up she wore at home was lighter and more natural than when she had to leave the house, but there was always that layer of camouflage. Jongin couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his mother without her ever present smokescreen of powders, tinted blushes and glimmering eyeshadows. 

He thought really hard and realized the last time he'd seen her bare face was the time his twelve year old self had gotten lost in the mountains and she'd come out to camp to see him. He hadn't thought about it in detail in years but she'd come alone, pale and upset - her eyes dead and rimmed with dark circles. She'd already been waiting in the camp counselor's office for several hours when Jongin had finally returned with the rescue party. She'd called his name once and hugged him tightly for while. She hadn't said a word and neither had he, but it had been the last real hug she'd ever given him. Cold and shivering and still in shock, he'd clung to her, hoping in his half dazed state that perhaps his mother would start treating him differently after that ... that she'd stop being a polite stranger to her own son. But when he'd returned home after camp, the mother waiting for him had been the distant one he'd always lived with. 

"Good morning, Mother." Jongin nodded more or less respectfully, eyes turned to the floor and hoping this encounter would be over swiftly, without any reference to yesterday's drama with Kyungsoo's Umma. He waited the customary four seconds for his mother to return his greeting before his feet started moving towards the stairs.

"Jongin?"

He stopped in mid-stride, confused. This was not their usual pattern of dealing with each other, this was not their way. 

_Civilities were observed._  
Greetings were quietly exchanged.  
Members of the family went their separate ways. 

That was the established pattern; his mother was breaking form and Jongin felt more than a little disorientated.

"Yes, Mother?"

"I'm heating up some food for lunch. Would you like some?" Her words were carefully detached - there was no actual mention of eating together. But Jongin could swear faint lines of strain had appeared around her mouth. It was almost lunch time, of course, Jongin realized in a daze. That was why Mother was asking him about food. Minjung ahjumma always cooked enough food on Saturdays to last the whole weekend should the Kims choose to eat at home all weekend. She prepared at least four separate dishes to be distributed over three separate meals, and these were always stored in airtight containers or French White Corningware casserole dishes and left on the shelves of their roomy, twin-door refrigerator. 

Jongin and his parents normally ate at different times, taking their desired portions - which they heated up and ate alone. At least, he assumed they all ate alone. Who knew? Maybe his parents actually ate with each other on Sundays. Jongin wouldn't know because he usually either stayed inside his room all day or he went out and stayed out. Sundays at the Kim Residence sucked up what precious little energy Jongin had for life so it was practically his religion to be away from the house on Sundays.

"Would you like some food?" She asked again as he had been so caught up in his thoughts he'd forgotten she was waiting for an answer.

"I ... No. Thanks, Mother. I'm meeting friends for lunch." He kept his expression as neutral as possible as he looked up at her. She nodded, her lips forming a tight smile. "I'd ah ... better get going." Jongin inclined his head politely and turned to resume his interrupted journey to the staircase.

"Jongin?" Her voice was soft and tentative and very unlike her.

Jongin stopped moving, his eyes closing in dread. He didn't want her to bring up yesterday. He didn't know what to say. "Yes, mother?" He finally asked without turning around.

"I just thought ... never mind. Enjoy your lunch."

_Civilities were observed._  
Greetings were quietly exchanged.  
Members of the family went their separate ways. 

This was the pattern. This was their way.

***

"Are you gonna finish that?" Tao pointed meaningfully at Jongin's half devastated pile of greasy fries.

"Take it, I'm done." Jongin put his half eaten burger down. His eyes flicked over the uneaten portion of the burger with disinterest before moving to the tall, white paper cup a few inches beyond it. The cranberry pink letters cheerfully spelt out LONG TALL & COOL, and honestly, Coca-Cola sounded a lot more appealing to him now than finishing a greasy burger so he reached for it and took a sip.

"Maybe you should order something other than a Quarter Pounder with Cheese the next time we eat at McDonald's. You don't even seem to like the taste of it, dude." Tao frowned at him thoughtfully before popping a French fry in his mouth. 

"There are 30 burgers on the menu and 15 wraps - that's not even including the chicken and fish menu - and you always order the Quarter Pounder with Cheese or the Big Mac. You've been doing that since high school! Not trying to judge or anything but don't you ever feel like trying any of the other burgers? I mean there are 28 other burgers to choose from. Why limit yourself to just two?" Kris was leaning back in his seat so he could stretch out his disproportionately long limbs in the limited room he had. Tao managed to always somehow fold his limbs elegantly and economically into any given space but Kris was just ... Kris just took up a lot of space. His left shoulder rested on the back of Tao's seat and his arm made at least two points of contact with Tao's side.

"I know I like those burgers for sure." Jongin shrugged. "I don't like change."

"But you only had half of the burger. You don't seem to even like it all that much." Kris gave him a shrewd look.

"No appetite." Jongin watched as tiny crystal beads of condensation rolled slowly down the side of the paper cup.

"Did something happen with the choirboy?" Tao leaned back to find Kris's shoulder in his way, but the other man made no move to shift it to the right. Giving a long suffering sigh, Tao finally reclined against Kris's left shoulder and Jongin caught the grin of pleasure Kris couldn't quite conceal.

"Kyungsoo? Hell no. No, things with him are good."

"Then?" 

"My mother is acting weird."

"Weird how?" Kris asked.

"She asked me if I wanted to eat lunch with her." Jongin explained reluctantly and Tao chuckled.

"She's your mom, isn't that what moms do? They feed you? I mean my parents and I aren't exactly getting along now but my mom still asks me if I'm eating enough and how about I come home for a meal one day." 

"My mother isn't like most moms, Tao. She never has been. We don't really talk or do anything together. We never have."

"That's ... I never knew. You never said." 

"There's nothing to say, I guess. We communicate a bit, I suppose. Routine stuff but nothing personal. My father and I barely speak at all."

"And you're cool with that?" Tao asked before taking a large bite of apple pie.

"I'm not really the chatty sort anyway." Jongin dispersed a hundred tiny globules of water as he dragged his index finger down the paper cup before giving a minute shrug of the shoulders. Tao and Kris knew better than to ask any more questions because Jongin was the quietest and most private of them all - he always had been. So instead, they talked about how an old high school friend of theirs who'd gotten married just two months ago, had just become a dad ...

***

It was almost 1pm when Kris' Prussian blue Acura revved and moved off in a low, rumbling cloud of noise. Jongin stood restlessly beside his Yamaha, tapping his fingers on the smooth black leather of its saddle. He thought about going home to paint - after all he only had eight more days to complete the piece. But the risk of bumping into either of his parents was too high for his comfort, so he fished his phone out of his back pocket and called Kyungsoo. Being with him always made everything stop.

"Soo?"

"Hey," Kyungsoo's deep, velvet-rich voice washed over Jongin's consciousness and he felt the muscles in his shoulders and back begin to unlock and relax.

"Come out with me?" Jongin tried to keep the plaintive note out of his voice but Kyungsoo caught it anyway.

"Only for a little while. There's a chamber music concert at 3 pm and I already have a ticket for that. It's kind of for this course I'm doing so I can't skip it."

"Can I ... come along?" Jongin asked slowly, almost apprehensively - like he wasn't completely sure he wanted to find out what chamber music was. 

"You'll be bored stiff!" Kyungsoo's laugh was even more low and husky over the phone than it was usually and Jongin couldn't help smiling. He liked that laugh so much.

"I don't want to go home, Soo."

"Is everything okay with your mother? She didn't give you a hard time about it yesterday did she?" It was concern spilling out of the phone receiver now rather than sounds of mirth.

"No ... No, she didn't. I told you she wouldn't. She just asked me if I wanted her to heat up some food for me and it's just not the kind of thing she ever does. But I told her I was going out. I think maybe ... Well, she sounded kinda disappointed."

"Maybe she was trying to reach out to you?"

"I don't really want to deal with that right now. Or ever to be honest." Jongin said dismissively and there was a short pause as Kyungsoo weighed his words.

"Okay. So ... You're sure you want to go for that concert?" He seemed to settle for sounding upbeat and Jongin was grateful he'd decided not to ask any more questions - it wasn't as if he had any answers anyway.

"Is it too late to get tickets?"

"Jongin, it's CHAMBER. MUSIC. I'm pretty damned sure they won't be sold out." There was that treacly chuckle warming up Jongin's frigid insides again. 

"Shit, you make it sound like I'll be asleep before my ass even touches the chair." Jongin grumbled, "I can do cultured. I can be cultured. Now what time do I go get you?"

"We should be there by 2.30 latest so we can buy a ticket for you. Can you be here by 2?"

"Can I be there earlier?"

"I'd like that, Jongin. By the way, you'll have to wear business casual at least. Is that ok? They tend to be assholes about jeans and t-shirts."

"I'll go home and change. Do you want me to use the car or are you okay with the bike?" 

"I ... miss the bike." What Kyungsoo didn't say was that he missed letting his arms sink comfortably into Jongin's body, with his waist and belly so firm beneath his palms. He missed pressing his cheek close to Jongin's back as the biting cold wind whipped across his skin and through his hair. But perhaps most of all, he missed having his nostrils teased by the unique, intoxicating scent of Jongin, Bvlgari Black, and crisp winter air. 

"I'll go home and change, then I'll be right over, ok? But business casual on my bike ... Our clothes might get kinda wrinkled, Soo."

"I don't care. I want the bike." Kyungsoo was adamant.

"Okay, you want the bike! I get it."

"I'll see you soon. Be safe?"

"I will."

It was only after Jongin got off the phone with Kyungsoo that it hit him ... he still had no fucking idea what chamber music was. 

"It had better not be like opera music," Jongin muttered under his breath as he stuffed his snapback into the front pocket of his parka and pulled his helmet on. Warily, he Googled 'chamber music'. When the search results appeared, he swore loudly and eloquently for ten seconds. It sounded almost as bad if not worse than opera for fuck's sake! The things he did for Kyungsoo, Jongin shook his head as he swung his leg over the ivory body of the Yamaha.

***

"Who was that?" Umma asked as she turned the knob and aggressive blue flames licked out of the stove burner. Then she made sure the lid was secure on the steamer so the sweet potatoes would cook evenly.

"Jongin."

"Is he okay? Did anything happen with his mother?" 

"He said nothing happened. But Umma, you're being nosey." Kyungsoo raised his eyebrows in mock censure. Naturally, she ignored him completely. 

"Is he okay? Save me the attitude, Soo and just tell me."

"He says he's okay but I think he lies to himself a lot. He's joining me for this afternoon's chamber music concert." 

"Dear God, does that poor boy know what he's getting himself into?"

"Hey! I like chamber music."

"You're a Music major, you don't have a choice. Are you meeting him there?"

"No, he's coming here to get me before 2."

"I'm steaming some goguma now and I want you boys to take some, okay? It's really cold today. Also, take some hot sobacha before you go. Appa and I are taking your Noona and the baby out soon so I won't be in. You make sure Jongin has something hot too before you leave."

"Okay." Kyungsoo nodded. It still astounded him how swiftly Umma had 'adopted' Jongin as one of her own. She'd only known Jongin for just over two days and she usually took some time to warm to people - preferring to observe and form some kind of opinion about someone before accepting them. This was a process that usually took weeks, months even. Kyungsoo just didn't get it.

"My heart just breaks for that boy." Umma said wistfully as she stood by the kitchen sink, staring out the window. 

"Why do you say that?"

"Just things he told me." She said cryptically.

"What things?" Kyungsoo asked in a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"That's between Jongin and me." And just like that, Umma turned the tables on Kyungsoo who was usually the one withholding information.

"Umma! What the hell?!" Kyungsoo protested noisily.

"Eat your noodles." She instructed calmly before leaving the kitchen, yelling for Hyeyoon to get Seungchae ready for their outing.

"She's keeping secrets from me now? What the hell did you say to her, Kim Jongin?" Kyungsoo asked aloud as his metal chopsticks dipped into dark colored broth and smoothly picked out strands of noodles.

***

"Jongin, hi." Kyungsoo's sister opened the door for him, her eyes intelligent and piercing behind the lenses of her horn-rimmed spectacles. Her hair had been gathered up in some kind of messy knot, and strands of it had come loose and framed her clear complexioned face in an aesthetically pleasing way. Sometimes Jongin wished he could just look at a person and register nothing, but his eyes had been trained to pick out all sense impressions without filtering out anything: colors, details and shapes ... everything. Most of the time, he couldn't turn it off and this was one of the reasons he avoided looking at people as much as possible. He didn't need to take on other people's baggage. He especially avoided making eye contact with his parents; he didn't want to _see_ them, any part of them.

"Hi Noona, is Kyungsoo ...?" he smiled politely and hoped she wouldn't notice that he hadn't used her name. Was she Hyewon or Hyeyoon? He just didn't know. He'd never been one for names. He just knew this was the sister who wasn't Baby Seungchae's mom.

"He's in his room. You know where it is." Distractedly, Hyewon threw the words over her shoulder and flopped down on the couch. Then she picked up a huge doorstop of a novel, flipped it open and proceeded to become immediately engrossed, effectively leaving Jongin to his own devices. Relieved that he'd escaped without having to make any small talk at all, Jongin found his own way to the room where he'd spent the night just two days ago. He tried to force himself to walk slowly at first, but in the end he just strode briskly to the door and rapped on it.

"It's not locked!" The words sounded unusually muffled.

Impatiently, Jongin turned the brass knob and walked in to find Kyungsoo in the midst of slipping some kind of navy knit sweater over his head and shoulders. Jongin smiled as he stopped in front of him and linked his arms behind that slender waist. 

"Jongin?" His arms stopped moving in shock, leaving his head still trapped within layers of dark wooly fabric. 

"You look like you need some help." Jongin's huskily voiced words were tinged with amusement as he gripped the coarse edges of the sweater and gently maneuvered it down, revealing inch after agonizing slow inch of Kyungsoo's face. Finally, Jongin rested his long fingered palms on Kyungsoo's shoulders, his gaze softening as his eyes made contact with Kyungsoo's.

"You're so early." Kyungsoo looked up at him - surprise and elation in his eyes as he linked his hands behind Jongin's waist and pulled him close.

"Traffic was light." Jongin said quietly just before he leaned in and tenderly slid his lips over Kyungsoo's. Meanwhile, Kyungsoo's right palm cupped the other boy's nape, anchoring himself as he returned the kiss - their tongues warm and pliant and teasing.

"Hey," Jongin said when they finally stopped to catch a breath. He sighed as he held Kyungsoo in his arms, and just luxuriated in the warm, secure sensation of Kyungsoo in his arms ... and just breathed him in.

"You're hiding them again." Kyungsoo frowned as he pulled at the collar of the pewter colored turtleneck Jongin was wearing so he could expose the angel wing tattoos he had such a penchant for.

"I Googled chamber music and I reckon we'll be the youngest people there. Didn't wanna shock any grandmas or grandpas."

"Are you calling me a grandpa? Are you laughing at my taste in music, Kim Jongin?"

"I would never." Jongin denied but he made no effort at all to disguise the amusement in his voice.

"Asshole!" Kyungsoo growled and shoved his shoulder hard.

"That's ... not the first time someone's called me that." Jongin laughed.

"Well, if the shoe fits ..." He rolled his eyes in annoyance and thumped Jongin on the shoulder one more time to drive the point home. The other boy just laughed as Kyungsoo continued to glare at him. Then in a sudden shift of mood, Kyungsoo's fingertips were probing the curves of Jongin's lips and Jongin closed his eyes at his boyfriend's bold touch. "You took away the barbell too." Kyungsoo sounded almost disappointed.

"It's easier to kiss?" Jongin smiled as he caught Kyungsoo's lips with his own. Their breaths mingled as they explored each other's mouths, tongues tangling sweetly together. And for a while, they just stood quietly in the sanctuary of each other's arms and for the first time that day, Jongin's chest didn't feel as if it was weighed down somehow.

***

"I can barely move." Tiny clouds of wintry breath puffed from Jongin's mouth as he stood in the driveway, waiting for Kyungsoo to lock the front door.

"It couldn't be helped. Umma would have had my head if I hadn't made you eat the sweet potato and drink the sobacha. She reminded me to feed you no less than six times before she left because apparently I have the attention span of a flea!" 

Jongin listened to Kyungsoo rant about Umma's incessant nagging without saying a word. All he knew was that he liked Umma. He truly thought the world of the woman who had accepted him so unconditionally in spite of the way he looked. Then Kyungsoo was climbing onto the pillion seat and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. As his boyfriend settled his cheek comfortably against his left shoulder blade, and Jongin's tummy felt warm and sated with home cooked food and home brewed tea, he knew he'd made the right decision coming here.

***

"You can use your iPod, you know. I won't judge you, I promise." Kyungsoo said teasingly as they sat down in their allotted seats. As predicted, there had been anything but a full house for the chamber music concert and there were two to three empty seats on either side of their own.

"I can do cultured." Jongin insisted stubbornly as he took Kyungsoo's hand securely in his, their interlocked hands lying snugly between their trouser clad thighs. But Kyungsoo swore he saw him cringe a few times though while the musicians were tuning their instruments.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Kyungsoo snorted but he was secretly pleased that Jongin was here with him. The lights dimmed and there was a moment's silence before haunting, melodious strains of violins, violas and cellos filled the auditorium. It was Brahms' Sextet No. 1 in B Flat Major - one of Kyungsoo's favorite pieces. As he let the music wash over and seep into him, he took a peek at Jongin sitting so quietly beside him. He looked so much like he was listening to a lecture and trying to identify the key themes and ideas that Kyungsoo had to stifle the urge to laugh.

"Jongin, it's music. You don't have to work at it. Just listen. Closing your eyes might help. And I mean it, you can use your iPod. I won't give you any shit about it. Well not too much shit anyway," Kyungsoo whispered into Jongin's ear, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm fine." 

In Jongin's defense, he made it all the way through the first piece, but there was a growing languor to his limbs he couldn't quite conceal and a distinct heaviness to his eyelids.

"Are you dying?" Kyungsoo asked mischievously in soft, low tones. Jongin reached over and whispered in his ear in equally soft and low tones, "Fuck off, Soo. I'm trying to be cultured." And this time Kyungsoo couldn't stop himself from chuckling and a few people in the row in front of them turned around to shoot them dirty looks. Kyungsoo hastily bowed his head in apology before pinching Jongin's thigh in retaliation. Ouch, Jongin mouthed but he looked more awake at least as they settled down to listen to the second piece.

About five minutes into Schubert's String Quintet in C, D 956, Kyungsoo felt a warm weight slump onto his right shoulder at the same time he felt a loosening of the grip on his hand. He felt the heavy, rhythmic breathing more than he heard it - the music was too loud. Sighing, Kyungsoo's left hand stroked Jongin's hair in the semi-darkness, his heart brimming over with so much emotion for this broken boy that he feared it would burst ...


	13. Sonata

Unsure of what had woken him, Jongin's eyelids flickered open before shutting again - he didn't want to be awake just yet. Kyungsoo's fingers skated soothingly over the skin at his nape ... again and again and Jongin didn't want them to ever stop. He inhaled the fresh detergent scent of clothes that he loved, a scent which always felt like a blast of spring - especially when he spent so many waking hours breathing in the less than pleasant chemical odor of oil paints. And when it was the scent of detergent mingled with the scent of Kyungsoo, it was just something Jongin couldn't see himself ever getting enough of. He'd loved that pure clean smell since he was a young child spending hours in the laundry room. He used to while away countless hours lying on his tummy drawing pictures and making them pretty with crayons and color pencils, while ahjumma diligently ironed item after item of expensive clothing. He could probably count on one hand, the number of hours he'd spent in the laundry room in the last few years, but the smell of detergent layered onto clean fabric still cloaked Jongin in a mantle of comfort wherever he was.

Kyungsoo's thighs felt firm beneath his cheek but there was just the slightest hint of give, of yielding flesh. In the past, he'd mostly dated tall, wiry guys who were detached and self-obsessed. Jongin had preferred it that way because guys like that didn't ask him a lot of questions he had no interest in answering. They didn't try to get to know him much at all which had suited him perfectly. Kyungsoo asked Jongin questions he couldn't seem to stop himself from answering and Kyungsoo tried to get to know him more than anyone else had ever tried to do. There was no denying that Kyungsoo was about as far from his preferred body and personality type as it was possible to get and yet here he was, with his head on Kyungsoo's lap, in a dimly lit hall, listening to a chamber concert.

"Is it almost over?" Jongin had whispered, refusing to get up from where he lay - he didn't really give a shit what the people around them thought about that. His fingers cupped Kyungsoo's knee, relishing the feel of smooth tan cotton beneath his fingertips. He liked the way Kyungsoo looked in the conservative chinos, sober navy blue sweater and slate gray sports jacket he'd worn for the concert. He didn't look anything like a college student today - not at all.

"Almost." The softly voiced word had drifted down amidst the melancholy notes infusing every corner of the the room, and Jongin turned slightly so he could look up easily at him. 

"Did I snore?"

"No, you were perfectly quiet." Kyungsoo said indulgently as his fingers tangled in his slightly mussed hair. "These wrinkles in your cheeks are really attractive." Kyungsoo had chuckled as he stroked the deep lines his trousers had carved into Jongin's cheek. 

"Better stop that. All the grandmas and grandpas will be scandalized." Jongin warned teasingly even as he moved his cheek further into the embrace of Kyungsoo's palm.

"They're _feeling_ the music, they won't notice or care. And not everyone here is geriatric, oh my God." Kyungsoo's hand cradled the strong curve of Jongin's jaw and seconds later he felt plump lips lightly kiss the heel of his palm ... soft as luna moth wings. Maybe it was the sad, ethereal quality of the adagio, maybe it was the pathos he felt for Jongin's family situation, maybe it was Jongin's gentle kiss? Maybe it was any one or all of these things but Kyungsoo's heart suddenly ached in the worst way. Wistfully, he thought about telling Jongin what he was feeling but in the end, he just couldn't find the words to express the intense emotions overwhelming him. And perhaps, perhaps Jongin would prefer not to know. So instead of clumsily confessing, Kyungsoo had pushed Jongin's dark fringe away from his forehead and caressed his hair gently - imbuing his touch with all the tenderness he could manage.

"Soo, are you all right?" Jongin asked cautiously, his eyes dark with concern.

"I'm fine." Kyungsoo gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile as a wave of compassion rose steadily in his chest, threatening to burst the chambers of his heart. "I'm fine." He said as the fingers of his left hand threaded through the fingers of Jongin's right hand and held on tight for the rest of the performance.

***

It was just after 3.30pm and while the sunlight wasn't quite waning yet, there was a perceptible bite in the air that felt distinctly nocturnal. Done for the day, Kyungsoo and Jongin had arranged to meet at the foyer of the Music Department. The whole being a boyfriend thing was still an alien concept to Jongin - he was so used to being on his own and coming and going as he pleased that waiting for someone other than himself was a skill he was still learning. But it had been surprisingly easy to fall into doing things with Kyungsoo. It had just been easy falling into Kyungsoo. He'd gone to a chamber concert with him for fuck's sake. Never in a hundred lifetimes could he have envisioned himself attending any kind of classical music affair and yet he had. He'd slept through most of it and Kyungsoo had teased him just a little bit about how his attempt at "being cultured" had been such an epic fail, but still he'd gone. And he hadn't hated it. It'd been nice ... just being with Kyungsoo was nice. Waking up with a stiff back and shoulders had been worth it for the warm press of Kyungsoo's thigh against his cheek, and the weight of Kyungsoo's arm across his back, his right palm curled around Jongin's upper arm.

And so it was Jongin found himself leaning against the wall of the Music Department foyer on a Monday afternoon with his black backpack slung over one shoulder and his hand gripping two helmets ... waiting.

***

The motorcycle was nosing its way out of the campus carpark when Jongin yelled over his shoulder that he needed to make a stop at a Korean takeaway place. Kyungsoo hadn't questioned it and when they reached the small restaurant, he'd called home to tell umma that Jongin and him were at the (grandiosely named) Han Palace to get takeaway and did she want anything from there. Eventually, mother and son settled on _maeran gari_ and fried _mandu_ \- which Jongin naturally insisted on paying for. Kyungsoo thought about fighting for the cheque but he decided not to push matters - some instinct told him Jongin needed to do this, he needed to give a little something back to umma. So he left it. When they were standing at the shop counter, Kyungsoo's eyebrows had shot up when he'd heard Jongin order two serves of ddeokbokki, but he managed to refrain from saying anything till the orders were actually filled.

"That's ... a hella lot of _ddeokbokki_ , Jongin. I didn't even know you liked _ddeokbokki_." Kyungsoo looked warily at the two takeway containers of viscous, orangey red gravy. To his relief, he couldn't see the vile, rubbery white tubes of rice cake because nothing much revolted him as much as _ddeokbokki_ did. 

"Hate the stuff." 

"Who are you buying it for then?" Kyungsoo asked incredulously as they walked out of the eatery and into the car park.

"Two very special girls." Jongin answered cryptically, an enigmatic half smile lifting the right corner of his mouth.

"What kind of answer is that?!" Kyungsoo protested, his face and voice brimming over with indignation.

"The truthful kind?" Jongin shrugged.

"Who are they?" Kyungsoo asked persistently.

"It's a long story." Jongin said noncommittally as he packed away the plastic bag of containers in the storage compartment of his motorbike.

"Well, it's a twenty minute ride to my house and I love long stories." Kyungsoo placed his hand between Jongin's shoulder blades.

"I swear no one makes me talk as much as you do." Jongin chuckled as he swung his right leg over the saddle. 

"Is that an official complaint?" Kyungsoo poked his ribs as he climbed on behind him and Jongin's response was a slight roll of eye. But his look of disdain soon dissolved as Kyungsoo's winter chilled hands slipped under three layers of clothing and rested on the warm, smooth skin of his stomach.

"Your hands are cold." Jongin said distractedly as he covered Kyungsoo's much smaller hands with his own through the barrier of fabric. 

"Your skin is warm." Kyungsoo chuckled as he tightened his grip on Jongin's waist and his thighs pressed against Jongin's. "Okay, I think we've established that this is an insanely boring conversation which doesn't need any further development, so now you can tell me who these two very special girls are. Wait, you're not secretly straight are you?" 

"What the fuck, Soo? No!" There was a low key burst of throaty chuckles - Jongin was never loud. In fact, Kyungsoo had never known anyone as quiet as Jongin. 

"Just making sure." Kyungsoo settled his cheek against Jongin's shoulder, "So, two very special girls ...? Tell me or I'll tickle you." Kyungsoo's hands crept further up, settling on his ribs, poised to strike.

"You're fucking relentless." Jongin shook his head and to his dismay, he had to shout out the story over the din of the engine and the roaring of the wind ...

***

Two fast moving balls of color launched themselves at Jongin and began rapidly scaling the precipice of his body amid impatient shouts of "Oppa, don't move! I can't get a grip!" and "Oppa buy _ddeokbi_?"

"I always buy _ddeokbokki_ for you, why do you even ask, Dabin?" Jongin peeled the three year-old off his leg and effortlessly swung her into his arms, balancing her against his waist. Her glossy black hair was cut in a short bob which swung animatedly around her cherubic, dimpled face.

"Maybe this week will be the week you forget." Dabin's older sister Daeun, who was currently hanging off his back like a monkey, explained it like it made all the sense in the world. Daeun was an old soul. She was five years old but she'd never really been a child in the real sense of the word, and Jongin hoped she wouldn't grow up to be a cynic because the last thing the world needed was more people like himself in it.

"Well I would tell your halmoni if I couldn't buy _ddeokbokki_ for you and Dabin, do you see?" Jongin explained solemnly.

"But you might forget to tell halmoni!" Daeun complained with a tiny pout, just before her arms curled around Jongin oppa's shoulders. " _ASSAH_! I did it!" She whooped as she lifted her arms towards the sky. She didn't always make it to the top of Mount Jongin so when she did there was always cause for celebration.

"You can have extra _ddeokbokki_ then." Jongin chuckled. 

"Girls, stop bullying Jongin oppa." A warm, maternal voice said firmly as Minjung ahjumma appeared and relieved Jongin of the carrier bag of _ddeokbokki_.

"You spoil them too much," she shook her head disapprovingly as she put the food on the island and grabbed some bowls and spoons. Then she was transferring perfectly symmetrical slices of kimbap onto a flat, white dish for Jongin, "I made some kimbap for you."

"Thanks, ahjumma."

"Jongin oppa hair different." Dabin's chubby little fingers grabbed at his dark hair.

"Hey, why isn't it blond anymore?" Daeun's face went all alert with inquisitiveness.

"I had to meet some important people," Jongin answered simply as he let Dabin pull and examine his dark hair.

"Important people?" Minjung ahjumma asked curiously as she placed two bowls of _ddeokbokki_ on the small kitchen dining table.

"But I liked the blond hair. It was cool. It was cool having a blond oppa," Daeun said crossly. "Who are these silly people who made you change your hair?"

"The blond wasn't my real hair color anyway, Daeun," Jongin stroked the back of her head reassuringly. 

"Well it should be."

"Shush, child. Just eat your _ddeokbokki_." Daeun's grandmother made her get down from Jongin's back before herding her to the small dining table by the window. Meanwhile, Jongin walked over and carefully deposited Dabin on her wooden high chair before taking a seat across from Daeun. 

"But when will you be blond again so I can tell my friends I have a cool blond oppa?" Daeun asked insistently as she spooned some glossy looking ddeokbokki into her mouth.

"Probably never?" Jongin grinned as he picked up a slice of kimbap with wickedly gleaming steel chopsticks.

"But why?!" Daeun sounded a little whiny now. 

"I never wanted it in the first place." Jongin reached over to wipe gravy stains off Dabin's chin and around her mouth, "Eat slower, Dabinnie." He told her gently.

"If you didn't want it, then why did you have blond hair the other day?" Jongin swore he could hear the wheels clicking in her brain she was thinking so loudly.

"I lost a bet, so my friends made me dye my hair blond." Distracted by the reddish gravy stains that had just landed on Dabin's nose, Jongin didn't even consider what he was saying as he wiped the toddler's nose.

"What's a bet?" Daeun jumped on the word like a fox pouncing on a rabbit.

"Uh ..."

"DON'T YOU DARE ANSWER THAT KIM JONGIN!" Minjung ahjumma's voice was intimidatingly loud and Jongin looked down at his plate regretfully and quietly ate a piece of kimbap - knowing better than to make eye contact with ahjumma. 

"Never you mind what the word bet means, Cho Daeun. Just finish your _ddeokbokki_ ," her grandmother said sternly, giving her a withering glare.

"Yes, halmoni," Daeun said, face subdued as she resumed eating. But Jongin wasn't fooled; he could see the determined glint in her eyes. She was not going to forget the word and she was going to hound him outside of her grandmother's earshot till he caved and told her what it meant - even if it took weeks. God help him, he had never managed to withstand her so far.

***

"Daeun, go to the living room and watch TV - bring your sister with you. Now, girls," Ahjumma instructed as she cleared away the children's dishes. Jongin was already at the sink washing his own dish.

"Jongin-ah," she said solemnly and Jongin's hand stopped its scrubbing motion. He could tell from her tone that he wasn't going to enjoy the conversation. 

"Yes, ahjumma," he replied eventually as he rinsed off the dish and left it on the drying rack. 

"Who are these important people you had to meet?"

"Ahhh ..." Jongin turned to face her, leaning against the sink counter. "I'm seeing someone. A vocal major at my college."

"What's his name?" Ahjumma asked without missing a beat - she'd known for years that Jongin was gay. When he was sixteen, she'd asked him when he was bringing a girlfriend home to meet her, and he'd given an awkward laugh and said, "Never." And she must clearly have understood what he hadn't actually said or admitted to because weeks later, she'd asked when he was bringing a boyfriend home to meet her. There had been another awkward laugh as he told her he didn't believe in relationships so probably never. He still wasn't sure if he believed in relationships, but for Kyungsoo, he was willing to give them a try.

"Do Kyungsoo. His name is Kyungsoo," Jongin said quietly before adding, "He's my boyfriend, ahjumma."

"When are you bringing your boyfriend home to meet me?" She sounded curious and ... accepting. 

"When we can both come back here before you finish work, I guess. Probably not this week. Kyungsoo has to perform solo at a concert this Saturday night so he'll be rehearsing a lot."

"Next week is fine. You told the girls you dyed your hair because you had to meet some important people. Were these people ... Were they Kyungsoo's family?" 

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I had dinner at their house on Friday night." Jongin was starting to feel a little wary; ahjumma usually asked him things in a conversational way but today she was being a lot more intense with the questioning than she would normally be. 

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"What were his parents like?"

"His dad is really quiet but his umma and sisters are friendly and talkative."

"What's his umma like?"

"Umma's really nice. She's a bit like you, ahjumma. She's a good cook and she's kind to me."

"I'm not kind to you," she protested gruffly before continuing, "You called her umma, not omeoni. Isn't that a bit strange?" Her gaze was penetrating and Jongin felt very much like he wanted to leave the room.

"She asked me to."

"You don't find it odd? Calling someone else's mother umma?"

"It's not like that. Kyungsoo's umma, she's really good to me, ahjumma." Jongin was frustrated because he was explaining things badly. 

"But don't you think your mother would be hurt if she heard you calling some stranger you just met umma?"

"My mother doesn't care about me at all - why would she be hurt? She doesn't even treat me like a son. She's more of a stranger to me than Kyungsoo's umma is even though I just met her three days ago." Eyes trained on the mosaic tiles of the kitchen floor, Jongin avoided looking at ahjumma.

"KIM JONGIN!" Her voice was sharp as a whip. "How dare you say such things about your mother?"

"She is a stranger to me, ahjumma. She gives me my allowance and pays my bills and college fees and we pass each other in the corridor and exchange impersonal hellos like we're awkward acquaintances. She knows nothing of my life. She knows nothing of what I do and nothing of what I feel." For once, Jongin forgot to be reticent and taciturn and the words fell from his mouth in a tide of barely concealed bitterness. 

"She knows a lot more than you know!" ahjumma said tersely before reining in her clearly agitated emotions. "You have no idea what you're saying, Jongin. Nothing."

"Tell me what I should know then." Jongin's voice was devoid of emotion.

"It's not my story to tell," ahjumma finally admitted after ten seconds of strained silence. "But you need to open your eyes, Jongin. And you need to start opening your heart."

"I'm not sure I have one, ahjumma."

"That's bullshit, and you know it." Ahjumma was always perfectly respectable until she got upset and then the cussing started - well, mild, middle-aged people cussing anyway. She never used the F-word but she usually let words like shit, dumb ass and bloody hell fly free when she got sufficiently worked up. She had blistered his ears each time his teenage self had come home with fresh tattoos.

"If you say so," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Your boyfriend Kyungsoo, do you feel anything for him? Do you care for him?"

"I ..." Jongin opened his mouth to speak and close it again. "Yes. I do."

"Then you have a damn heart, Jongin! I need you to open it when you're at home and start seeing things with a heart and eyes that aren't closed. Maybe you'll find something you didn't know was there." Ahjumma's remarks were oblique but Jongin knew what she meant.

"There's nothing to find. My mother doesn't care about me. And my father doesn't even know I exist." His fingers played restlessly with his belt loops while he further examined the mosaic design on the floor.

"I can't speak for your father. He doesn't know I exist either either - never mind that I've worked for him for almost fifteen years. But your mother ... she's a good person no matter what you may think and she deserves as much of a chance as Kyungsoo's umma, Jongin."

"Maybe." That was all Jongin was willing to commit to and for now that seemed to be enough to keep ahjumma off his back because she said nothing more - only heaving a long, drawn out sigh before clearing the table.

It seemed the conversation was over - no, not conversation. That hadn't been a conversation, it had been an interview at best, an interrogation at worst. And Jongin was even more confused and unsettled now than he had been at the start. All he knew with any certainty was that he apparently possessed a heart, and he had to open it in order to understand his mother. 

But it would never happen, for his mother and him were doomed to be at an eternal impasse. It was just easier and better to stick to the pattern:

_Civilities were observed._  
Greetings were quietly exchanged.   
Members of the family went their separate ways. 

***

A/N: Comments are very much loved! 


	14. Lento

"So, are you ready for this Saturday?" Minseok's shoulder nudged Kyungsoo's as they sat beside each other at lunch. It was Tuesday already, which left three and a half more days of stomach-churning anxiety for Kyungsoo to somehow live through.

"Of course I'm not! I'm totally fucked and it's all your fault." Kyungsoo glared ferociously at Minseok as he stuck a forkful of grilled chicken into his mouth.

"What do you mean it's my fault? You're a vocal major - you love to perform," Minseok said dismissively.

"In a group! I'm fine when I'm performing in a group but this is standing on a stage on my own and I am _not okay_ , Kim Minseok. And I wouldn't even be singing this Saturday if you hadn't twisted my arm to do this."

"I did not twist your arm," Minseok snorted.

"But you specialize in twisting arms, Seok. It's a gift you have - twist, twist, twist and we all end up doing all kinds of shit for you that we wouldn't normally do. Am I right, Soo?" Luhan asked cheerfully as he put his tray down and helped himself to one of Minseok's fries.

"Of course you're right, Lu. But there's no need to sound so cheerful about it, ok? I am having a serious panic attack here. What if I get stage fright? What if I just freeze?"

"Are you ... Is this for real? But Soo, you _don't_ panic. You're _not_ a panicky person." Minseok was starting to look worried, and just a little bit guilty.

"There's a reason why I never audition for solos." Kyungsoo shut his eyes and sighed.

"But you never said anything, you dumbass! Or I'd never have made you do it. Dammit, Soo. It's too late to pull out now, the programs have been printed. Why are you telling me this only now? Why didn't you just tell me no in the first place?" Minseok's hands clamped his forehead agitatedly.

"Because I thought I could get over it but I'm even more freaked out now than when I first agreed to do it."

"It's ... I-" For the first time in almost a decade of friendship, Minseok was at a loss for words.

"Don't worry, I won't pull out." Kyungsoo tried to sound as reassuring as he could when it was about as far as possible from what he actually felt.

"It's not about that. We'll work this out ok, Soo? I'll help you through this."

"Not sure how I can help but I'm here for you, man. We all know I can't carry a tune to save my fucking life but I can buy burgers and brownies and get coffee for you guys while you rehearse." Luhan clapped a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"All those things would KILL our throats!"

" _Fine_. Bottled water and whole grains, fruits and vegetables, then. Geez, Minseok, you're so picky." Luhan did his best impression of someone "trying" not to roll his eyes, but who was actually rolling them so hard in his head they were practically detaching themselves from their sockets, and Kyungsoo couldn't help laughing. He could always count on Luhan to clear away the clouds in any situation. Every single time.

"You think you're funny? But you are so NOT, Lu." Minseok punched him on the arm for good measure and Luhan protested noisily about how Minseok could bloody walk his own ass home after all that abuse.

"We'll get through this together, okay?" Minseok said a little awkwardly, like he felt bad about getting Kyungsoo into this situation (but not bad enough he was going to give him an outright apology).

"Thanks, guys," Kyungsoo smiled sheepishly, "but I think I'll be okay. Jongin is helping."

"How can he help you?! He's not a vocal major! He doesn't know a thing about helping you prep-"

"He is helping me just fine, Minseok." Kyungsoo says it firmly, eyes steely with resolve.

"But-" Minseok looks very unhappy as Kyungsoo interrupts him yet again.

"He is helping me _just fine_."

"Okay fine. But the stage fright thing? I swear to God if you ever keep something _that_ important from me again, I will-"

"So! Are we giving you a lift this evening or what?" Luhan cut Minseok off mid-sentence and Kyungsoo was grateful that he managed to distract Minseok from what would surely have been an uncomfortable interrogation.

•-•-•

Half an hour later, as Professor Cahill droned on an on about the finer points of musicianship, Kyungsoo's phone vibrated soundlessly in his back pocket. He peered at the screen as discreetly as he could, hoping no one around him would notice. He couldn't hold back the smile as he saw the selfie of Luhan's cheesy grin and enthusiastic thumbs up, and read his text message: _Me when I see you stand up to Minseok!_

With boyfriends like Luhan, who needed enemies, Kyungsoo grinned as he forced his attention back to Professor Cahill's lecture.

•-•-•

_But you're neither friend nor foe_  
Though I can't seem to let you go.  
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down-

Kyungsoo faltered on the last note and his index finger slammed his iPod screen a little harder than he intended - the music cutting off abruptly as he made a noise of frustration.

"Soo?" Concerned, Jongin looked up from the intricate network of pencil drawn lines forming the beginnings of a maple leaf lying on the pages of a journal, a still life sketch for one of his classes that he'd been working on for the past fifteen minutes while Kyungsoo rehearsed.

"I don't know if I can do this. This Saturday thing," Kyungsoo's hand gathered his fringe into a frustrated top knot and his body radiated a nervous, agitated kind of energy even though he was standing still.

"Of course you can." Jongin slipped his arms around him and pressed his nose against his nape and held on tight.

"You don't understand, Jongin. Standing in the middle of a stage on your own with the spotlights blinding you and all eyes on you ... and those few moments of silence before the music starts? It's the most terrifying thing." Kyungsoo's voice doesn't seem full of panic or fear - just a cold, quiet kind of dread.

"I can't even imagine what that's like. But I do know you know this song inside out. You just have to go up there for four minutes and do what you've been doing in this room. Just four minutes before it's all over."

"It's not the same when there are hundreds of people looking at you, waiting for you to mess up. I can't imagine what it's like for idols who go up in front of thousands."

"Welllll, y'know they get paid a hella lot of money so I think it helps."

"That's not helping me! I'm just getting a token sum. Definitely not enough to pay for therapy, considering how much grief this performance is causing me."

"I think you need to get away. You're too close to this. Let's just go somewhere now. And if you want you can rehearse there too."

"But-"

"Let's just go," Jongin turned Kyungsoo's tense body around and kissed him tenderly.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You'll love this place, I promise. I just need to make a phone call, okay?"

•-•-•

Jongin leaned against the wall outside the stained glass room as Kyungsoo continued rehearsing. Eyes shutting in dread, Jongin retrieved his phone and scrolled through his contacts before stopping at the name he needed. Reluctantly, his finger selected the five-letter entry and he typed a brief text message asking for a favor he didn't want to ask for, but which he would swallow his pride to obtain for Kyungsoo's sake.

Pressing send, he waited for a response - hoping it wouldn't take hours for her to see it. Three minutes passed and he sighed, standing upright so he could go back into the room. He should have known better than to expect a reply, he thought bitterly.

The steel door knob was cold between his fingers as he prepared to turn it, and his hand froze in surprise as his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Jongin fished it out hastily. It wasn't a message like he'd expected but a call. She never returned messages with phone calls; in fact she hardly ever called Jongin, period. What did this mean?

"Hello, Mother."

•-•-•

"What is this place?" Kyungsoo's eyes scanned the steel and glass monolith just before Jongin's motorbike dipped into the basement carpark entrance. As they'd streaked past the building, Kyungsoo had made out a stark, black and white logo featuring an interlocking K and J. In fact, the entire facade had been done in black and white, which only made all the cold steel and glass look even colder. Before he knew it, the engine was off and Jongin was unbuckling the strap on Kyungsoo's helmet.

"I can do that myself, Jongin. I'm not your girlfriend."

"Shhh, I'm not implying you are. It's just there's no one here. I wasn't thinking. That's all." Jongin secured the helmet on the bike before flattening a few wayward strands of Kyungsoo's hair. And that was when Kyungsoo finally noticed the lines of tension around Jongin's eyes.

"Jongin? You okay?"

"For now anyway. Depends how the next twenty minutes pan out before I know how okay I really am."

"More mystery," Kyungsoo sighed but didn't pry. He knew Jongin would tell him when he was ready. _If_ he was ever ready.

The elevator doors opened and Jongin ushered him in, his hands making subtle passes at his waist. The inside was as elegant as the building facade with its slate gray carpeting and herringbone steel panels and gleaming mirrors. Kyungsoo realized then that they'd never seen themselves in reflection, together. The intricate lines on Jongin's tanned neck looked both elegant and untamed just beyond his own pale, bare neck.

Slowly, Kyungsoo's eyes flickered shut as Jongin's arms slid securely around him, his hands clasped together right under Kyungsoo's rib cage. _Soo_ ... he whispered as his lips tattooed his neck with kisses. Exhaling, Kyungsoo sank into Jongin and reveled in the warm pressure of his chest against his back, and the possessive press of his arms around his own.

When his eyes opened again, it was to see their bodies irrevocably entwined and he couldn't help thinking they looked so beautiful together, and that they belonged together in ways he couldn't articulate.

"Where are we and why are we really here?"

"You'll find out soon enough. You're so impatient," Jongin sighed.

"I'm not going to like what's waiting for us at the end of this elevator ride, am I?"

"You'll be fine. It's me who has to worry," he mumbled the last sentence under his breath and a bead of worry lodged itself in Kyungsoo’s brain.

When they were on the 12th floor, three floors from their destination, Jongin reached for Kyungsoo’s hand, holding it tight.

“About my mother … she wants us to stop by her office.”

“Your mother? Her office? She works here?” Kyungsoo was trying really hard not to squawk but he was doing a really bad job of it.

“She works here? Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Jongin’s laugh sounded hollow and a little broken. “The logo you see on the elevator panel, the one that’s marked KS? The letters stand for my parents’ surnames. My father Kim Daegun, and my mother Jang Soora.”

“Fuck, Jongin, they own this building?”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn. This is just … I need a second to process the fact that your parents actually own an entire building. Like not a floor but the whole fucking building?! You could have warned me or something, Jongin.”

“It didn’t occur to me, to be honest. I don’t come here much and I try not to think about this place at all.” Jongin’s words had a sting to them; they worried Kyungsoo.

“What do they do?”

“I dunno,” Jongin shrugged indifferently, “Construction. Engineering. Architecture. Mother is an architect.”

“Do they expect you to take over the business?”

“I think Father did for a while but my grades were shit in high school. They probably wanted me to get my grades up but … they were too busy with their projects and making money to do anything much about it. I was basically failing Math for most of high school, and I refused to have anything to do with Physics. For a while, Father talked about hiring a personal Math tutor – to _salvage the mess_ I’d made of my own education.”

“How did that go?”

“It didn’t. Mother convinced him to let me be, to let it go. To let me figure out what I wanted to do after high school. That was the one thing she did for me. I don’t know how she did it because he was dead set against me doing Fine Arts. Maybe she told him I’d just run the company into the ground. Whatever she said? It worked and he’s pretty much ignored me since.” Bitterness seeped through each dispassionately uttered word.

“Oh Jongin,” Kyungsoo hugged him close, trying to comfort him the only way he knew how. To his relief, he felt Jongin’s body relax a little in his hold and sighed as Jongin rested his cheek on his shoulder.

“Anyway, long story short, they let me go to Garnier and do my own thing.”

“Did you want things any different?”

“No. Art is my thing. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. I would have fucked everything up if my parents had really forced me to do Engineering or Architecture. Or even worse, a Business degree. I would have hated that most of all because I _hate_ talking.”

Kyungsoo was glad Jongin didn’t seem to hate talking to him. He felt like he understood a lot more about the situation between Jongin and his parents now; but it only made him feel even more powerless. As Kyungsoo stroked his hand helplessly over Jongin’s back, the elevator dinged in muted tones. Everything about the elevator was muted – all subtle and elegant and devoid of any personal touch. Like Jongin’s parents, he supposed, as Jongin’s arms dropped reluctantly at his sides. 

Bracing himself for another (hopefully not unpleasant) meeting with Jang Soora, Kyungsoo held his breath and stepped out of the lift with Jongin. The thick pile of the rich cocoa carpet felt springy beneath Kyungsoo’s soles, and they walked past pots of lush palms and tasteful paintings in beiges and oranges. Kyungsoo was surprised that it wasn’t as cold or imposing as the lift. It was almost welcoming and for some silly reason, this made him like Jongin’s mother just a little bit more.

After they’d cleared the oasis of potted plants, they walked through a frosted glass door and came face-to-face with a ridiculously pretty woman sitting at a very large desk. She was dressed in crisp, tailored red and looked to be in her thirties. Petite with a riot of short, dark brown curly hair and eyes that twinkled with energy, the woman was practically dwarfed by the sea of wood in front of her.

“Um, Mrs. Lee, I’m here to see my mother,” Jongin informed her, his hands in his pockets as he stood self-consciously before her.

“Master Jongin! I haven’t seen you in almost a year, how are you?” She stood up swiftly, her face wreathed in smiles. “Your mother told me to expect the two of you. Just a moment please, and I’ll see if she’s ready for you.” She left in a whirlwind of brightly uttered words and sunny smiles, disappearing behind a black, oak door. In the matter of a minute, the door swung open again and the two women stepped out, slim legs moving in tandem, although Jongin’s mother had at least three inches of extra height on her secretary. Jang Soora was as stunning as Kyungsoo remembered. Wearing a sea green dress today, her hair was pinned up in some complicated coil and her feet clad in black patent leather high heels.

“Jongin, you’re here,” she said a little awkwardly.

“Mother, you didn’t have to come out. I would just have collected the keys from Mrs. Lee on my own.”

“I – no, it’s all right. I wanted to take you myself and I regret that I didn’t get to meet Kyungsoo properly the other day.” There was a brief flash of what looked like pain in her eyes.

“Hello,” Kyungsoo greeted hesitantly before bowing. He honestly had no idea how to address her and he hoped Umma never heard about this because she would have whooped his ass for greeting an adult with just a _hello_. Jongin was no help as he stood behind Kyungsoo. Wordless.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Her smile was only slightly reserved as she bowed in return. _She’s so beautiful_ , Kyungsoo thought as he saw pieces of Jongin in her regal bone structure, striking eyes and arresting face. 

“I … We should go then,” she said finally.

“Enjoy the view!” Mrs. Lee chirped and it occurred to Kyungsoo that he still had no idea why Jongin had brought him here. He had refused to tell him anything other than that he was taking Kyungsoo for a change of scenery – somewhere different for him to practice. And it wasn’t like he could cajole Jongin into telling now that his mother was with them. Soon, they found themselves standing silently inside the monochrome elevator as it whisked them up to the top floor.

•-•-•

The first thing Kyungsoo saw was the rhapsody of colors staining the pale, marble floor. A glass dome arched over their heads, with curved panels of exquisite, jewel-hued stained glass, and they walked slowly to the center before coming to a stop.

"It's beautiful," Kyungsoo said in wonder as he looked skyward, his face soaking up color-filtered rays of mellow winter sunlight. Lead strips crept all over the glass, carving out shapes that looked distinctly like … large sweeping, pearlescent wings in golds and yellows. Kyungsoo didn’t know much about art, he never had, but even he could see the magnificence of the piece.

"I'm glad you think so. I put a lot of myself into its conception. The design is mine and I personally selected the colors for the stained glass panels." Jang Soora's voice was cultured and sophisticated and everything that was controlled. But her eyes told a different story as they tracked Jongin's quiet exploration of the area.

"I see angel wings." Kyungsoo said curiously on the heels of her explanation. It was no surprise then that Jongin was artistic - apparently he'd inherited his talent from his mother.

"Yes, those are angel wings. I wanted them especially." 

At her words, Jongin paused in mid step before resuming his progress around the stained glass rotunda. If Kyungsoo had blinked he would have missed it. But he hadn't and his heart ached for Jongin ... and he knew he was making a lot of assumptions about a situation he knew next to nothing about, but his heart ached for Jongin's mother too.

"Thank you for bringing us up here, Mother. We'll be all right here on our own now so you can get back to work." Jongin's voice was coldly polite as he remained where he was, staring out at the city skyline.

"I ... of course, I'll leave you to it then. You can give me a call when you're ready to leave and I'll see you both off. I'll be working late anyway." She was poised and elegant but clearly less collected than her son.

"That won't be necessary, Mother. We'll let ourselves out. I parked in the basement anyway."

"If you're sure," she said hesitantly as she turned to leave.

"We'll be fine, Mother," he said firmly. "And thanks again for letting us use the area."

"You're always welcome. Both of you." And with a distracted and slightly melancholic smile, Jang Soora turned and headed for the elevator. Kyungsoo watched until she disappeared behind metal doors.

"Jongin, we could still call her later. Before we leave. I think she really wanted you to."

"Not today, Soo. I brought you here for a change of scenery. A different stained glass room where you can rehearse your song. Let's not talk about my mother."

"Okay." Kyungsoo agreed reluctantly as Jongin folded his arms around him.

"Aquamarine, citrine, topaz, diamond." Jongin sounded almost contemplative as his eyes wandered to the colorful glass above them.

"Those are ... gem stones?"

"Yes. But they're also colors. Look up, Soo. Tell me what you see."

"Gold."

"That's topaz."

"I see a golden, kind of lemony yellow? Sorry, I suck at colors and describing things. If it were a song I could totally break it down into parts for you but images and colors? I'm just clueless."

"Citrine. The lemony yellow is citrine, Soo. What else do you see."

"Something like ... pale greenish blue."

"Aquamarine." Jongin was smiling at him with something like pride and it made Kyungsoo feel ridiculously happy.

"So the silvery gray must be diamond."

"A B+ for you," Jongin chuckled as he stood behind Kyungsoo, his arms fitting snugly around Kyungsoo's shoulders.

"Those angel wings ..." Kyungsoo said tentatively. 

"Yeah."

"You know those wings are about you, right?"

"Doubt that."

"I don't agree. How old is this place?" 

"They moved to this building ... I dunno, maybe three years ago? I've only been in this room once. When they did some fancy black tie event with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres and reporters. To announce _we have arrived_." Sarcasm tainted Jongin’s voice, unmistakably. "I had to wear a suit and bow tie and hide the ... unacceptable areas. She had a special shirt made for me with an extra high collar so that you couldn’t see my tatts. And on the day itself, Father made Mother check that I was _suitably dressed_ for the event. "

"What did she say?"

"Nothing much. She just said I looked handsome and fastened my bow tie and said how grown up I was now." 

"It sounds like she was proud of you."

"More like she didn't know what else to say," he snorted.

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, Jongin." Kyungsoo turned around so he could see Jongin's face, see the blank expression that always settled over his features when he talked about his parents.

"When exactly did you get these?" Kyungsoo's fingers trailed over the wings inked over Jongin's neck. 

"When I was 16 I think. About five years ago."

"See? That was before your mother designed this place."

"I see nothing," Jongin said dismissively before releasing Kyungsoo. 

"You'd better start rehearsing, Soo. Before we run out of daylight." Obviously, the discussion about his mother was done and Kyungsoo nodded before easing into a series of vocal warm ups. As he did his breathing and jaw exercises and his two octave scales, Jongin sank to the ground a few feet away and wrapped his arms around his knees and just … watched. There was no array of art supplies in front of him for once, no paper. This time, there was nothing but Jongin sitting on the floor, his eyes filled with nothing but Kyungsoo.

“Aren’t you going to sketch something? Or work on a drawing?”

“No.”

“But you’re _watching_ me. It’s making me nervous.”

“There’ll be more people on Saturday, Soo. It’s just me now. You can do this, okay?”

“I hate it so much when you make sense,” Kyungsoo grumbled and Jongin just smiled one of his lazy smiles - the ones that Kyungsoo pretended he hated but which actually wrecked him, in the most complete way.

“Don’t you need your iPod?” Jongin asked and Kyungsoo shook his head, _no_ because he didn’t need it.

“I’m going _a capella_ ” Kyungsoo explained and then he did one last warm up before he was at last, ready to sing. Knowing it was Jongin watching him helped. It centred him and made him forget for just a moment that he’d have to do it on his own in front of a crowd of strangers. _A crowd of strangers. On his own_. Abruptly, the panic started to hiss and pop from inside him, bubbling up slowly, threatening to drown and overwhelm him.

“Soo,” Jongin was calling his name softly … Kyungsoo could hear that single syllable swimming before him, “Soo.” Gentle as the summer wind, Jongin’s hand reached calmly inside his collar, catching a pair of angel wings and taking them out so Kyungsoo could see them and remember. So he could see the wings and remember that he didn’t have to be afraid. Jongin was here.

“You got this,” a deep velvet voice cut through the fog surrounding Kyungsoo.

“You’re right, Jongin. I can do this.” A soft smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth because Jongin made everything all right. “I’m ready,” Kyungsoo announced … just before he began to sing:

_I dig my toes into the sand_  
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds  
Strewn across a blue blanket  
I lean against the wind 

_Pretend that I am weightless  
And in this moment I am happy, happy_

“But Soo …” Jongin whispered, confused because this wasn’t the song that Kyungsoo was practicing for the concert. This wasn’t it at all.

_I wish you were here  
I wish you were here_


	15. Glissando

Jongin wanted more than anything to ask Kyungsoo why he was singing his favorite song instead of Sara Bareilles. He practically craved the answer, but at the same time, he didn't want the mellow, heartfelt vocals to stop; so he reined in his curiosity and just let Kyungsoo's rich, dark voice hover and float and curl itself around him like a well-loved eider down quilt. Jongin watched as a range of emotions twisted and turned on Kyungsoo's face, as he reacted to the words he was singing – his eyes locked on Jongin's almost exclusively.

The melody of the Incubus song was still distinctly there, but Kyungsoo had given the song a sort of indie rock vibe with his smoother voice and slower pacing. It sounded almost like a ballad, the way he was singing it and Jongin was no fan of ballads but ... Kyungsoo's voice had moved him right from the start. Jongin had never believed in the whole falling in love at first sight thing. Hell, he didn’t even have time for the falling in love thing. Shit like that just burned up your time and your emotions and he had never wanted any of it.

But that first time he'd heard Kyungsoo sing in the stained glass room, that angelic voice had called to him, had breathed life into a part of his soul he thought had been lost forever. And after that it was just a matter of time before Kyungsoo had woken up all kinds of things in Jongin. Sometimes he resented it because feelings could be fucking inconvenient. Sure, he sometimes missed not caring what anyone thought of him, and he wasn’t always happy about caring for others. But one thing Jongin never regretted was finding Kyungsoo. Or maybe it was the other way around, and it was Kyungsoo who had found him.

_I wish you were here_

Unbidden, an image of his mother's beautiful, disappointed smile haunted him - her wistful smile as he'd basically told her he didn't want to see her before they left the building. Guilt tugged at his heart and something else, something that felt almost like ... yearning. 

_I wish you were here_

The words echoed in the stained glass rotunda, as the song ended. Jongin couldn’t bring himself to say anything; he didn’t want to break the spell. But after a few seconds of silence, Kyungsoo opened his eyes and stared at Jongin, the slightest touch of anxiety in his eyes.

"Did you like it?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Jongin complained as he straightened his lanky frame before walking slowly over to where Kyungsoo stood. 

"Well, it's not a rock song, the way I did it. You might be outraged. Up in arms!" 

"I don’t feel strongly enough about anything to get outraged, Soo,”

“You don’t feel strongly about anything, Jongin? Nothing at all?” Kyungsoo’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

“You’re not a thing!” Jongin chuckled. “Okay, fine, I feel strongly about you.” He reached out and stole a kiss, his lips brushing the corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth with a promise. “How do you know the words to that song, Soo? You told me you don't listen to rock songs so how are you even singing Incubus? Did you suddenly discover you like rock music? Is your playlist full of Incubus and Linkin Park now?" He stroked Kyungsoo's cheek, a wry grin on his face. 

"I still don't listen to rock songs, Jongin. And I still don't like rock music. It mostly makes my ears hurt." Kyungsoo's nose wrinkled in mild distaste. "But this is your favorite song and I wanted to sing it for you, so I've been learning it for weeks. Just practicing, y'know? Lucky for me it's a song I actually like."

"But you've got the concert to rehearse for, why are you learning a completely new song? When I work on a major piece, I don't do anything more than simple sketches or doodles. I wouldn't start working on another painting. Too distracting." There was an indecipherable expression on Jongin's face.

"Are you trying to make me confess? You already know I love you."

Jongin didn't say anything at that, only folding Kyungsoo in his arms.

"I was going to surprise you with this after the concert - after I had time to get it just right but somehow today seemed like the right time. Sorry it's still a little rough around the edges. I thought I'd have a few more days to rehearse so, yeah."

"But you only have three more days, Soo." Jongin shook his head, sighing. 

"I'll rehearse _Gravity_ after this, I promise. I just ... wanted to do something for you."

"It was everything," Jongin said quietly, angling his head and brushing his lips over Kyungsoo's. Jongin's tongue teased its way into his mouth, slow and gentle, his hand warm and secure behind Kyungsoo's waist as he pulled him closer. When Kyungsoo's tongue traced the edges of his upper lip and played with his piercing, Jongin made a soft sound of pleasure before kissing him back.

"We should stop. You need to rehearse," Jongin tried to sound calm when his heart was beating like a bass drum.

"I don't want to," Kyungsoo groaned as his lips moved over Jongin's neck, "I don't want to."

"Yes, you do." His hands cupped Kyungsoo's cheeks, stained a dusky pink from the kisses they'd exchanged. Kyungsoo made disgruntled noises at being foiled, but eventually resumed rehearsing in the serenity of the stained glass rotunda. He sang for as long as fingers of sunshine continued to stream into the room, casting pretty, jewel hued pools of light on the floor.

“Come on, Soo, the sun’s about to go down,” Jongin took his hand in his and brought him to the wall of glass that was a stunning vista to the outside world. On the cusp of nightfall, Jongin and Kyungsoo placed their outspread palms to the glass, and looked out. They watched as the city darkened and transformed into a blazing ocean of neon and fluorescent light. Sighing softly, Jongin looped his arms around Kyungsoo's waist, chin resting on one narrow shoulder as they watched day pass into night, the sky bleeding in coral pinks and deep purple before fading to a twinkling onyx.

•••-----•••

The lift doors shut behind them with a quiet whoosh and Kyungsoo's finger automatically reached for the button marked B, for the basement carpark where Jongin's motorbike was parked. But before he could even touch it, Jongin's index finger had already depressed the number 15. His mother's office was on that floor. _Jongin's mother_.

"I just want to say thanks. That's all, Soo. Don't go making a big deal out of nothing." Jongin tried to sound offhand as he answered the question that hovered, unsaid, on Kyungsoo’s lips. Kyungsoo could tell, though, that Jongin wasn't nearly as indifferent as he made himself out to be. 

"I’m not!" Kyungsoo protested while Jongin eyed him sceptically.

Then, before they knew it, the lift doors were opening and they were making the brief, nerve wracking journey to Jang Soora's door. Her chirpy secretary was long gone - it was after 6 now and while the office was still flooded with warm fluorescent lighting, the floor was deserted.

"I should ... probably call her. So I don't scare her knocking on her door after office hours." Jongin was saying it to no one in particular but Kyungsoo gave his hand a supportive squeeze. Jongin's hands were so cold; it worried him. A quick conversation on the phone and then the oak door was swinging open.

"Jongin! Kyungsoo. I ..." she seemed almost overwhelmed by their sudden appearance and a little at a loss for words. She finally settled for saying she hoped they’d enjoyed the view in the rotunda. 

"We did. It was amazing," Kyungsoo smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you, Mother. For letting us use the room," Jongin said quietly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.

"Anytime you want to use it, anytime you need it again - you're always welcome. Both of you."

"Ah, it's bad enough we disturbed you today, to be honest," Jongin shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Please? I'd like you to make use of the room anytime you feel like it." Her hand grabbed Jongin's instinctively. 

"I-” Jongin pulled the edges of his black beanie lower in a self-conscious gesture, “I'll think about it."

"I'm glad. Would you boys like to have dinner? I know it's a little early still but there's a nice bistro across the road. We could have an early dinner together." There was something like hope in her eyes and Kyungsoo prayed Jongin wouldn't brush her off.

"I've gotta get Kyungsoo home soon but maybe another time?" 

"I'd like that." Jang Soora still hadn't released Jongin's hand and to Kyungsoo's relief, Jongin allowed her to hold on to it.

"Thanks again, Mother. For everything.”

“You’re welcome … you’re welcome here anytime, Jongin. I hope you know,” she sounded composed even if her eyes told other stories.

•••-----•••

“It’s not what I’m used to,” Jongin admitted as he took a bite out of his overloaded BLT.

“She could be reaching out. It’s possible,” Tao said as he wiped crumbs and ketchup spills off the table next to Jongin’s. It was past three in the afternoon and things were quiet in Angelus Café, so Tao could stop by to chat briefly in between wiping down tables and serving food and drink.

“I just don’t understand why she’s doing it. Like this is all more than ten years too late.”

“Forget all that history – why do you wanna cling to the bad shit? You gotta be like me and just keep moving. I mean I’m talking to my mom now and I wasn’t sure I ever would again when I left home. They were beyond pissed that I wouldn’t be delivering them their much anticipated 3.2 grandchildren. Things are still fucking awkward between us, but at least we’re trying. And I think that one day, we might actually even be ok?

“I hope you get your wish, Tao.”

“I hope you get your mom back too.”

“Who says I want my mom?” Jongin frowned, not even bothering to correct Tao that she was _Mother_ to him, never _mom_.

“Everyone wants their mom, Jongin. At some point, everyone does. Okay, I gotta get back to work. See you tomorrow, dude.”

Jongin watched as Tao swiftly navigated the tables to greet a party of six customers. He knew the group of chattering, giggling girls would keep Tao busy for a while and knew that was the end of the conversation with his friend. As Jongin ate the rest of his BLT, he mulled over Tao's words ... _Everyone wants their mom. At some point, everyone wants their mom._

Did he want his mom? He didn't even know. But then he remembered how her hand had looked, holding on to his the day before. It had been so tiny and soft and warm, and he thought, maybe he did know.

•••-----•••

“Jongin, have some more ___jjigae_.” Umma ladled some fiery kimchi stew into Jongin’s soup bowl.

“Umma, you’re going to literally feed him to death. You know he can’t say no to you and he’s already eaten enough to kill a cow,” Kyungsoo complained, ignoring the restraining palm Jongin had placed on his thigh as if to say _drop it, just let it go_.

“What do you know about cows?” Umma gave her son a look of withering disdain before turning to ask his boyfriend affectionately, “Would you like some more rice, Jongin?”

“No … thank you, Umma. I’m fine. I’ll just have the _jjigae_.”

“Umma, stop with the eating!”

“FINE.”

“Wow, kids! Let’s just play nice and let the guest finish his _jjigae_ in peace.” Hyewon’s voice carried across the table, calm and commanding. A lawyer’s voice, Jongin thought as the sour, spicy goodness of kimchi sizzled and settled on his tongue. In silence, he brought the spoon to his mouth again and again; he’d never liked being the center of attention.

“Do Hyewon, did you just call me a kid?”

“In my defence, I was trying to distract you? So I reckon you can just let me off with a mild reprimand this time. There’s no need for maiming. Soo’s got a concert tomorrow so he doesn’t need to be getting into a brawl with his mother the night before. And Soo, calm down for God’s sake. I’m sure Jongin’s capable of saying no without any help from you.”

“It’s not about whether he’s cap-" Kyungsoo began before his sister cut him off.

“Shush! Quiet. Let the poor guy eat.” Hyewon hissed.

“I’m not trying to feed him to d-" Umma barely got eight words out before she, too, was silenced by her formidable, younger daughter.

“Umma, our guest is trying to swallow his _jjigae_. Please, I beg you, let him digest his food in peace. You and Kyungsoo both need to take a step back. Like way back,” Hyewon held her hand up as if to say _STOP_.

“FINE.” Kyungsoo and Umma agreed grudgingly and Jongin gratefully swallowed another mouthful while Kyungsoo’s father reached for some spinach _banchan_ with a long suffering sigh.

•••-----•••

“Here, take Baby for a bit will you? He always squirms when Soo takes him – I think he can tell his uncle is nervous around babies. Hyeyoon should be down soon but I need to start getting ready for a coffee date with this cute guy from my Jurisprudence class,” Hyewon said as she held up a wriggling Seungchae. Two small arms reached out for Jongin and he grinned as he took the baby and held him close to his chest.

He had so much trouble with people sometimes but babies didn’t care if you were good at talking or being nice. Babies didn’t care if you weren’t perfect, Jongin thought as he nuzzled Seungchae’s little fist and breathed in that comforting, sweet talc and lotion-laced scent all babies seemed to have. Kyungsoo didn’t care that he wasn’t perfect either, Jongin smiled at that random thought.

Seungchae gurgled with delight as Jongin dandled him affectionately, his tiny fingers poking at the tattoos on Jongin’s neck. He was openly fascinated with them – probably because everyone else in the family had pale, untouched necks. Jongin had been so tempted to wear a turtleneck here tonight but in the end he’d gone for a crew neck sweater and a ribbed knit hoodie to wear under his faux fur-lined hooded parka. His immediate instinct was to hide all his tattoos from sight but Umma had made it very clear that she didn’t want him to conceal them from her. They were part of who he was, she’d told him the previous Saturday, and she didn’t want him feeling like he had to hide any part of himself under her roof.

So Jongin had eventually shown up at Kyungsoo’s doorstep without a turtleneck. At the end of the day, he was here for Kyungsoo and he was stressed out enough about the next day's performance without having to get upset over Jongin covering up his tattoos. To his relief, no one had gasped or given him judging looks. Hyewon and Umma already knew of them of course, but Hyeyoon and Kyungsoo's father had been very calm and accepting too. It was a quiet reaction from the Do Family but it had been nothing like his parents' non reaction all those years ago, when Jongin had come home with a neck all inflamed and puffy and stained with angry black ink. Nothing like it at all.

He could feel the wrinkles forming in soft ripples across his forehead as his mind settles on his mother. Things had been a lot less complicated and confusing when she was just that distant person who disbursed his weekly allowance and gave him awkward hellos as they passed each other in the hallway. He could cope with things better when he knew what to expect. He didn’t know what was happening with his mother other than that she seemed to be reaching out to him or something. He just couldn’t figure out why and why now?

"How did you end up literally holding the baby? Again!" Kyungsoo looked amused as he appeared beside Jongin, hands still damp and pink from doing the dishes.

"Hyewon noona said she was passing him to me because he squirms a lot when you carry him,"

"He does get a little restless," Kyungsoo admitted a little sheepishly and Jongin ducked to hide his grin. "You're not allowed to laugh at me, you ass! Babies just wriggle a lot and I'm  
always worried he'll slip and fall on his head. And I'll never hear the end of it from Umma for the next two lifetimes."

"That's a little ... you worry too much."

"Is Hyeyoon noona going to be much longer because I'm ready to hide out in my room." Kyungsoo looked anxious all of a sudden and Jongin had a feeling it was the upcoming performance that was to blame.

"Thank you, Jongin, I'll take him now. You boys can go do your thing now." Umma appeared beside him and held her arms out. Seungchae happily allowed himself to be handed over and Jongin's arms felt a little empty all of a sudden as the warm, sweet smelling package was relieved from him.

“Thanks, Umma!” Kyungsoo bussed her cheek before grabbing Jongin by the hand.

“Bye, Umma,” Jongin managed to smile shyly at her as Kyungsoo dragged him towards the staircase.

•••-----•••

"Jongin?" Kyungsoo was pensive as he fingered the silver wings that dangled from the chain he wore around his neck.

"Hmm ...?" Jongin looked up from his sketch pad.

"I'm still not okay about tomorrow."

"You'll be okay, Soo." Jongin placed his pencil and pad carefully on the bedside table before lying on his side, watching Kyungsoo with slightly worried eyes. Jongin wasn't given to extreme displays of emotion so Kyungsoo wasn't worried.

"I puked first thing in the morning when I realized the concert is tomorrow and it's really happening and I'm out of time. What if my mind goes blank and I can't remember the words? Or I remember the words but my mouth won't open? Or I remember the lyrics and I can sing but I go off key?" His voice was calm but his fingers fidgeted with the silver wings agitatedly.

"Well, I'm not gonna lie, one or all of those things could happen but I think ... I think none of them will because you know this song inside out and you're too much of a perfectionist to screw this up."

"That's ... not the most encouraging thing you could have said, Jongin." Kyungsoo glared at him, punching his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to say motivating shit like you believe in me and I have the voice of an angel bla bla bla?"

"But Soo, you already know I think you sing like an angel."

"You can say it more than once!" Kyungsoo grumbled and Jongin chuckled, pulling him closer and catching his lips in a lazy kiss.

"You have the voice of an angel, Do Kyungsoo." His voice was teasing but Kyungsoo saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. "They'll love you, I promise. And you'll be great, I know you will. And don't forget I'm there with you, okay?" Jongin's finger trailed over Kyungsoo's left collarbone before holding the silver angel wings in between his fingertips.

"I need you closer than that." Kyungsoo's nose nuzzled Jongin's neck.

"They won't allow me on the stage."

"I want you to draw something on my skin."

"What?"

"I want traces of you on my skin, Jongin. Will you draw angel wings on the inside of my wrist? Just like the ones you have on your neck? You told me you designed the tattoo yourself all those years ago, right?"

"Yeah, I did. But I ... I've never drawn on skin before." Jongin looked stunned.

"Please, Jongin? It'll distract me. When I feel like puking I can just peek at my wrist. I can't see the pendant because it'll be tucked away and it'll be weird if I keep touching my chest while I'm singing. Please?"

"You know I can't say no to you but ... skin is a really unpredictable canvas - bumpy with veins and the ink may smear and bleed," Jongin shook his head, features infused with doubt, "It may not look good, Soo, I really don't know."

"I want you to do it anyway." Kyungsoo said stubbornly.

"I've never tattooed anyone with my art pen before?" Jongin rubbed the patch of skin behind his right ear with his index finger.

"I'm stressed out enough, Jongin. Don't give me a hard time." Kyungsoo grimaced.

"Which wrist do you want it on?" Jongin finally sighed and reached for his backpack, which always contained a basic set of art supplies so that Jongin could stop and sketch whenever he saw any visual trigger that called to him - anything he saw which he absolutely had to depict in charcoal or ink on the heavy, vanilla colored sheets of the drawing pad he always had with him.

"Wait! You need to use a Sharpie. I don't know if one of your fancy ass art pens will work."

"A ... _Sharpie_?!" Jongin looked almost offended.

"I Googled it okay? Everyone says you need a Sharpie and I don't want to risk using anything else."

"But Soo-"

"Here, I got this black Sharpie just for tonight," he pushed the gray, black-lidded pen into Jongin's palm and laced their fingers together. "Can you get over your arty farty pen snobbery and Sharpie that tattoo for me?"

"This is going to cause me years of psychological trauma," Jongin gave a mock scowl just before he leaned over to kiss Kyungsoo, his lips sliding warmly over his boyfriend's.

"I never knew you were such a drama king, Kim Jongin. But fine, I'll pay for the therapy bills." Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and Jongin's deep laugh vibrated against his neck.

"All right, I'll use the damn Sharpie! Will you even be able to see the tattoo? Won't you be wearing long sleeves?"

"If you draw it so the tip of the angel wings reaches my palm, it will be enough to keep me going," Kyungsoo explained, his long, thin fingers caressing the back of Jongin's hand.

The ink felt cold and wet on Kyungsoo's skin and he heard Jongin's voice telling him that tattooists usually drew the design on paper before transferring the wet drawing onto the skin. Then they clean up the lines on the skin with the pen before the tattoo gun traces the lines, puncturing the skin and implanting the ink.

Kyungsoo's senses were suddenly drenched in Jongin's rich, rum voice telling him of stories in skin, even as his pen drew angel winged tales into the ivory canvas of Kyungsoo's wrist. His mind whisked back to the time Jongin had told him, a month ago, about what it had been like to get tattoos inked into his skin.

"You know it's going to wash right off when you shower right? This ink is only indelible on paper, not skin. It'll bleed and run off with the water."

"It won't come off."

"You mean you're not going to shower?!" Jongin teased him, his fingers tucking a few stray strands of hair behind Kyungsoo's ear.

"Of course, I'm going to shower! That's what Seungchae's talc and Umma's hairspray are for. They'll keep this tattoo where it belongs for the next month. I told you I Googled it, Jongin."

"You're such a geek, Soo. And I can't believe you cribbed your baby nephew's talc and your mom's hairspray!" Jongin's husky laugh filled the room.

"I ... can't deny I'm a geek but I'm just borrowing their shit okay? Just BORROWING!"

"What if I'd said no? What if I hadn't agreed to draw your tattoo?" Jongin teased.

"But you never say no to me." Kyungsoo reasoned confidently. "Now, help me to sprinkle talc on it and spray it so it'll stay."

•••-----•••

Jongin’s phone lay in the grip of his ink-stained fingers as he typed a message to Mother – to tell her he wouldn't be returning to the house that night.

_Mother, I’ll be staying over at Kyungsoo’s._

_Okay. Will I see you tomorrow?_

Jongin hesitated before replying, _yes_. He only had to wait a few seconds for her reply to come in. 

_Goodnight, Jongin. See you tomorrow._

Jongin knew he was reading too much into nothing, but he felt like she was disappointed. A tiny part of him wanted to ask her if she was but years of habit made Jongin bury the urge. So in the end, all he did was text her a bare-bones _Goodnight, Mother_

Kyungsoo snuggled up and laid his head on his shoulder and read the text messages on Jongin's phone screen. He was relieved, ecstatic even, that they were far more personal messages than the one she’d sent him the first time Jongin had stayed over at the Do family home.

“You okay?” Kyungsoo asked contemplatively as he rested his chin on Jongin’s chest.

“Of course, I am. It’s you I’m worried about.” Jongin’s thumb travelled over Kyungsoo’s cheek in soothing strokes.

“I’m … surprisingly calm. Maybe these wings are giving me courage,” Kyungsoo examined his new ‘tattoos’ with pride.

“I just hope Umma doesn’t kill me for this,” Jongin muttered warily.

“I’d like to see her try,” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and they laughed. For the next twenty minutes, they chatted in the dark, eyelids growing steadily heavier and words more faint till Jongin’s breathing hit a deep, regular pattern and his cheek pressed more heavily against the top of Kyungsoo’s head. 

As Jongin slept quietly in his arms, the spaces of Kyungsoo's mind and his heart were filled with worry for him. The fractured state of his relationship with his parents seemed to cause Jongin so much pain, no matter how much he refused to admit it. Gently, he stroked silky, chestnut dark strands of hair and held Jongin tight and resolved to repair everything that was wrong in Jongin's life. He only hoped they could fix things in time.

When Kyungsoo eventually lapsed into uneasy dreams, the last thing on his mind was not his anxiety over tomorrow's concert, but the broken boy he clung to in the wintry night - the boy who had inked an exquisite tapestry of angel wings and hopes and love onto his skin.

  
  
  



	16. Interlude

The gurgling echo of the toilet flushing poked its way through Jongin’s bubble of sleep. The noise was vicious and unrelenting, and covering his ears with the pillow wasn't helping. He could still hear the water churning and filling up no matter how hard he burrowed under the bedding. Blinking in slow motion, Jongin spread his palm and fingers out, sliding his hand over still-warm sheets. Traces of his warmth, but no Kyungsoo. He had to be next door then, using the toilet. 

Lying back and stretching his arms out lazily, Jongin waited for the door to open so he could entice Kyungsoo back into the warm bed. It had to be fucking freezing outside and Kyungsoo had no choir practice today because he had to rest his voice for the concert. That meant they could actually cuddle up in bed all morning if they wanted. Well. . .he would try to convince Kyungsoo anyway, but Jongin had a feeling he would be way too keyed up about tonight to agree to spooning the morning away. 

_Did I just use the word spooning?_

Jongin groaned. If anyone had told him a month ago that he would ever use the word _spooning_ , let alone actually want to spend hours engaging in the act with someone, he would have asked them to fuck off. Yet, here he was making plans to persuade his boyfriend to spend his Saturday morning cuddling in bed with him—cuddling and _not having sex_. Yet another thing he never used to do. . .before Kyungsoo.

How had things changed so much for him? How had _he_ changed so much? What had happened to him, for fuck's sake? His mind asked the questions even though it already knew the answers—and really, there was only one answer.

_Do Kyungsoo happened_.

Jongin waited for the remnants of regret to surface, waited for some piece of his former self to warn him that he was better off on his own—just worrying about the next beer, the next cigarette, the next fuck. And there was a sudden flash of nostalgia for a time when he worried about no one but himself. Because here he was, worrying about Kyungsoo. He didn’t like worrying about him, didn’t like the fact that Kyungsoo was unhappy. But at the same time, he didn't want things to go back to the way they'd been, in that time before he'd seen the boy who sang in the stained glass room. Jongin despised dealing with messy emotions and would do just about anything to avoid them. But if that was what it took to keep Kyungsoo beside him, he would swallow all the discomfort and take the emotions head-on, even if he choked on them.

A minute passed. Two. But still, there was no sign of Kyungsoo. Would he be able to hold things together at the concert? He could only hope that Kyungsoo wouldn't be overwhelmed on the stage, could only hope that the angel-wings he'd drawn on Kyungsoo's pale skin would do its job and distract him just enough. Fuck, maybe it would even give him some strength. And maybe Jongin being in the audience would somehow centre Kyungsoo enough to keep his fears at bay. 

Jongin lay there, staring up at the pale ceiling, worrying about Kyungsoo and how much he was going through, and he could no longer recognize himself. When had he ever worried about anyone other than himself? When had he ever been there for anyone? When had anyone been there for him the way he hoped to be there for Kyungsoo, and the way Kyungsoo had been there for him?

He'd. . .never had someone in the audience when he had his "things". Tao and Kris hadn't counted; they’d been part of the same art exhibitions and shows in high school so it wasn't quite the same as "having someone" in the audience. It wasn't like they'd had to do anything special or give up any time to attend the event. 

He'd never had that kind of "someone" in the audience. Would Kyungsoo be that "someone" at his coming exhibition? But Jongin already knew the answer to that question. He couldn't imagine Kyungsoo not wanting to be there for him. Maybe Kyungsoo's Umma might make it there too? It was a lot to hope for though. He shouldn't allow himself to be so naive—or complacent.

_Never hope for anything_.

He'd learned that a long, long time ago. Turning his back on hope had allowed him to survive the past decade, and it would get him through the next few. How ironic that someone like him had ended up dating a guy who tried to pick threads of hope out of every bad situation.

_Dating_. 

Yet another thing Kim Jongin hadn’t done before Kyungsoo. 

_Dude, who the fuck are you, even?_

Jongin waited, yet again, for regret to wash over him. But instead, he saw. . .Kyungsoo and him raising their palms up to the sky to catch sleet. Kyungsoo and him riding through the streets with the wind whipping at their hair and bodies—the other boy's arms solid and sure around his waist. Finally, he saw Kyungsoo watching him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears as Jongin hung the chain with the angel wings around his neck. A heavy kind of ache formed, deep in his chest. He wasn't sure what emotion was twisting through him, but Jongin knew one thing for sure—it was not regret.

When Jongin and his friends had ended up in different courses at Garnier, things weren't like they were in high school—they weren’t part of the same art exhibits anymore. So they’d stopped telling each other when they had exhibits because. . .well, they’d just stopped. But the way Kris and Tao had been with each other lately? Jongin suspected they’d attended each other's shows all through college. They just hadn’t told him. Not that he could blame them; he’d never taken much interest in what anyone else did. But in the same way, he hadn’t expected them to be interested in his shit.

It was only his parents he’d ever invited, and he’d always regretted it. Every single time. Because his parents had just _never_ —never anything. And that was just fine with him, he thought as he covered his eyes with a carelessly placed forearm. 

There were times his mother had hesitated just a little before telling him, with a practiced smile, "no, I'm sorry we can’t make it. There's a [insert lame excuse] we can't get out of." _Business dinner. Conference. Cocktail party. After-hours meeting with clients_. It didn't matter what the events were, Jongin knew they were nothing but lame ass excuses. The sentiment was the same— 

_I'm sorry we don’t have time for you._

At least his mother had made some effort to offer an excuse for missing his art shows, he supposed. His father was a blunt man who usually just told him in that flat, cold voice of his that Jongin knew his parents did not attend such functions. He wasn't sure which pissed him off more—his mother's lies or his father's callousness.

_Mother_ , Jongin thought as he moved his arm so it no longer covered his eyes. As his arm dropped onto his chest, artificial darkness was replaced by the dim light in Kyungsoo's room. She was confusing him, his mother. Light and shadows. Who was the real Jang Soora? He just couldn't figure it out. He couldn't figure _her_ out. Jongin didn't like change, and he liked uncertainty even less. He preferred it when people stuck to the patterns they knew. Didn't he?

Abruptly, Jongin's thoughts scattered as he heard the sounds of someone vomiting. _Dammit_ , Jongin swore under his breath as he got out of bed and headed for the door. It had to be Kyungsoo and his anxiety about the concert, and Jongin didn't know the first thing about dealing with someone else's anxiety. He knew nothing about it at all, he thought, as he turned the doorknob. 

Pushing the door inwards, Jongin found Kyungsoo getting into standing position. Listlessly, the other boy bent over the small sink, bringing some water to his mouth with a cupped hand, which he then gargled and spat out. Water droplets clung to his lips, chin and jaw as Kyungsoo soaped his hands. 

"Soo?" Jongin stopped beside him, his fingers combing wet, black hair off Kyungsoo’s pale, clammy forehead. "Hey. . . Are you sick?"

"Not sick. Just. . .stressed. About tonight." Kyungsoo's lips formed a weak smile, "I've been throwing up all week. It's like I have morning sickness or something. I have so much respect now for pregnant women and the shit they have to put up with, man."

“All week? I thought it was only yesterday morning it happened. You should have told me,” Jongin said, his heart heavy with worry as his palm stroked Kyungsoo's back. He hoped it helped Kyungsoo the same way Kyungsoo's touch centered him—healed him even. Kyungsoo's cool fingertips on his skin made him forget most of the bad things, and he wanted to do the same for him now.

“It seemed…stupid. And I was hoping today would be different since you were with me, y’know?” He smiled at him—a wan smile that was so unlike his usual open ones. “But yeah. . .I just can't catch a break,” he said just before Jongin drew him into a hug. With an exhausted sigh, Kyungsoo let his head drop onto his shoulder. Jongin didn't know what to say so he just held him close for a while, smoothing his back over and over. 

_What do I say? I suck so bad at this._ Jongin grimaced. Why couldn't he think of something to say? Biting his bottom lip in frustration, he tried to find the words.

"I know. . .I know this sounds like BS now, but you will stand on that stage tonight and forget where you are. They'll play the music and you'll remember the words and you'll sing them—" Jongin's palm cupped his cheek, "the same way you've sung them for weeks." 

"Of course I won't! My mind will go blank and I'll stand there while two hundred people watch me choke," Kyungsoo snorted. And it broke Jongin’s heart to see how much he believed his own words. What was he supposed to say to make him feel better? Jongin wished he was better at this kind of thing.

“Are you saying I drew this for nothing? I wasted my fucking time?” Jongin asked finally, his eyes narrowed in mock disapproval as his fingers drew slow lazy loops and lines over Kyungsoo’s tattoo-embellished skin. As gently as he could, Jongin caressed it. 

“That’s not fair!” Kyungsoo protested, lifting his head up to face him. He looked so tired. Drained, even, with dark shadows under his eyes.

“I. used. a. Sharpie. for. you.” Jongin complained, even as he linked his fingers with Kyungsoo’s. “A fucking _Sharpie_ , Do Kyungsoo.” He tried to inject as much contempt into the word as he could, and thank fuck, Kyungsoo began to grin. 

“I never saw anyone look _so_ offended,” Kyungsoo admitted, chuckling. 

“I might never recover from the trauma, not gonna lie,” Jongin said, his lips pressing lightly against Kyungsoo’s forehead. “A goddamn Sharpie, Soo.”

“You seem just fine to me.” Kyungsoo’s voice sounded muffled, almost lost in Jongin’s shirt. Jongin didn’t know how to answer so he just hugged him instead, and to his relief, Kyungsoo seemed okay with that. 

They just stood there for a while, and feeling like he should do be doing more, Jongin scrolled through his mental playlist to find the right song. A few seconds later, he began humming the tune from My Chemical Romance’s _Disenchanted_. Kyungsoo wouldn’t know the song but he reckoned it didn't matter. It was the melody that counted and this was a pretty one. He’d only been humming for over a minute when they were interrupted by sharp, impatient knocking.

“Not that I wanna break up your romantic interlude, guys, but I need to take a dump. Can you like get the hell outta there before I sic Umma on you?” Jongin had to stop himself from laughing out loud. It sounded like Hyewon. It _had to be_ Hyewon because Kyungsoo’s oldest noona didn’t really seem like the in-your-face type. This noona, though, would be a litigator for sure.

“There’s no need for fucking death threats!” Kyungsoo lifted his head to yell animatedly at Hyewon. Jongin reckoned Kyungsoo would rise up from the grave if it meant he could have just one last chance to outargue his noona. But it made him so happy just to hear the fire licking at the edges of Kyungsoo’s words. Maybe his boyfriend would be okay after all. 

For now, anyway.

* * *

Jongin’s soft, not-quite-snore gave Kyungsoo almost as much comfort as the weight of his arms around him. And Jongin’s elegant collarbones were pressing into his back in a way that felt possessive, even in sleep. They’d ended up back in bed after Hyewon (the troll) threw them out of the bathroom. But he’d made it a point to brush his teeth and make her wait before vacating the bathroom. He'd been completely blasé as he'd brushed his teeth to the symphony of Hyewon’s enraged yelling—

“How dare you brush your teeth when I'm dying here?! You little shit!” She was probably waving her fist, he grinned, before deliberately slowing down his brushing movements. 

“You can always use the downstairs bathroom if you can’t wait!” Kyungsoo had retorted.

“Soo, do you really need this kind of stress today, of all days?” Jongin had placed a hand on his right shoulder, his features infused with wariness. Kyungsoo had explained, with a mouth full of toothpaste, that puke was nasty and they could all sit the hell down and let him do what he had to do. After that, Jongin had just leaned against the wall and waited. 

Meanwhile, beyond the bathroom door, Hyewon had continued to hiss a prolific and creative configuration of curses. When Kyungsoo finally emerged from the bathroom smelling of strongly of peppermint, his noona had given him a decisive punch on the arm and shoved him out of the way. Jongin only just managed to slip out in time before she slammed the door on them. 

“You really like living on the edge, huh?” Jongin shook his head, with a crooked half smile on his face.

“Don’t let my noona fool you. She’d be bored stiff with life if everyone let her have her way. I try to give her a blood rush to the head every now and then,” Kyungsoo had said in a deadpan manner, making Jongin laugh. It was that deep, rich sound that Kyungsoo loved and he clung hard to it now that he was feeling like actual shit. But Jongin didn't need to know that.

When they'd first entered the bedroom, Kyungsoo had gone right for his MP3 player so he could listen to _Gravity_ on repeat—to burn the lyrics further into his memory or whatever. Like that was even possible with the number of hours he’d already poured into memorizing the words. 

He had to save his voice for the full-dress rehearsal and tonight’s performance, so he couldn't rehearse now. He had to do SOMETHING though, and since singing was out of the question, listening seemed like the next best thing. Gritting his teeth, he had tucked the buds into his ears.

“Later,” Jongin had whispered, his fingers plucking out the earbuds. "You're exhausted and that's not gonna help anything. Just one hour? You can listen and whatever _when_ you get up.” 

“I'm too anxious. I can't sleep now!” Kyungsoo said, covering his face with his hands.

Jongin was quiet for a few seconds before saying, in a slightly strangled voice, "let's just. . .spoon then."

"Did you say _spoon_?" For a moment, Kyungsoo forgot his fears and just focused on how sheepish Jongin looked. And his heart felt lighter than it had all week. “Jongin? Did you say—?”

"Just shut up and get under the damn blanket," Jongin grumbled, looking very disgruntled. He was so endearing in his grumpiness that Kyungsoo snuck under the covers with him right away, and tumbled happily into his warmth. It had taken him a while to fall asleep but just being in Jongin's arms went a long way to making him forget he'd been puking his guts out earlier, and that he'd probably want to do the same when he went on stage twelve hours later. 

For two hours, Kyungsoo drifted in and out of a semi-dream state, and he just happened to be half-awake when his phone flashed and buzzed on the bedside table. Kyungsoo peered at the blinking screen, made out the word _Seoktator_ , and groaned. It was way too fucking early on a Saturday morning to deal with Kim Minseok.

"It’s only 8.45am, what the hell?” 

“I’ve been up for two hours,” Minseok pointed out.

“It’s a Saturday morning and we don’t have choir practice today. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? You couldn’t wait till ten?” 

"I have a massive to-do list! I’m on the organizing committee, in case you forgot. But anyway, whatever. I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay? You're not throwing up like that time in high school when we had to audition for Garnier, are you?" For what it was worth, there was no hint of mockery in his best friend's words, only worry and concern. "It kinda came back to me last night that you puked for three days straight before you auditioned for Garner. You're not. . .is that happening again?"

"You could say that," Kyungsoo answered, sighing. He felt so wrung out he couldn't even dredge up enough energy to lay a guilt trip on his best friend.

"Back then. . .I thought you were just, y'know, stressed out about not being selected for Garnier," Minseok said in a strained voice. Kyungsoo knew it was petty of him, but he derived a small sense of satisfaction from the fact that Minseok was doing such a good job of sounding guilty without any help from him. 

"But I was," he said tiredly. "I _was_ scared I wouldn't make it. But more than anything. . .I was stressed out about having to sing on a stage, on my own, in front of a bunch of strangers."

"You do know that there'll be um. . .a considerably larger bunch of strangers tonight?"

"THAT IS NOT HELPING me to manage my stress levels, Seok," Kyungsoo pointed out in acidic tones.

"Look, I feel bad about getting you into this situation but well, it’s too late to get you out of it, and you need to FUCKING SUCK IT UP, DO KYUNGSOO.” Just like that, all traces of guilt were gone—leached out of Minseok’s voice—as he switched to his customary take-charge mode. “Yes, you have stage fright. Yes, you will have to perform in more or less ten hours' time. And yes, there will be two hundred strangers watching you sing tonight. We can't change any of these three things right now, so you'll just have to deal. I'll help you however I can but you know I have my own solo to prep for.” 

Kyungsoo was too stunned to say anything but _okay_ , and then Minseok was instructing him to be at Winthrop Auditorium at 2pm for the full-dress rehearsal, and 6pm for the actual thing, and asking him if he needed a lift, etcetera, etcetera. At last, Minseok ended the call with a gruff _good luck, Soo. You got this_ ; then there was silence and it was just Jongin and him again. 

The noise of the phone conversation must have disturbed Jongin; he’d shifted in his sleep so his arms weren’t wound as tightly around him anymore. All it took was a little bit of wiggling before Kyungsoo was lying on his side, facing him. He was about to shake him awake when he stopped himself. Jongin looked _so ethereal_ —but no, ethereal wasn't the right word. There was a weight to Jongin’s physical beauty, a less than perfect realness to him, that was worth so much more to Kyungsoo than angelic perfection he could never touch. Jongin’s chest rose and fell with the rhythms of sleep, and Kyungsoo just couldn’t bring himself to break the spell. 

Quietly, he watched as Jongin slept. Eyes closed and lush mouth pouting slightly, Jongin was just beautiful. . . _So beautiful_. And some days, Kyungsoo couldn’t believe that Jongin was his. The logical part of him kept warning him to be careful with his heart, that bad boys like Jongin were bad bets that never stuck around. But his heart. . .his heart knew Jongin’s, and Kyungsoo _knew_. He just knew that Jongin would never leave him. They’d only known each other for, what. . .four weeks? Five? Hardly any time at all, and yet they seemed bound together by invisible, unbreakable strings.

One after another, Kyungsoo's fingertips landed on Jongin's painted skin—gliding slowly, slowly, over angel wings and other things. All of a sudden, he remembered the fear clamping down on him that first time at the bus-stop. He'd been so terrified of the tattoos then, and even more terrified of the boy who wore them. Who knew life would lead him to Saturday spooning with that very same boy. 

The fine skin on Jongin’s neck rippled slightly, his muscles reacting to Kyungsoo's touch. But to Kyungsoo's relief, there was no corresponding change in his breathing patterns. _Such a sound sleeper_ , Kyungsoo smiled as he traced the edges of his mouth. . .his lips plush and soft in repose. 

There was a dramatic difference in texture as his fingertip went over the cold, hard metal of the titanium barbell. It had felt colder still the first time they'd kissed, Kyungsoo thought, smiling. The memory of that night was still so vivid, like bold splashes of color in his mind. Kyungsoo could still recall the moment he'd told himself _fuck everything_ , and decided that even if he never saw Jongin again, he would at least have a kiss to remember him by. 

To this day, he couldn’t explain how he’d had the balls to kiss Jongin but he was so thankful he’d found the courage. He watched as Jongin lay beside him, sleeping. Then, remembering his tattoo, he wondered if it had survived the night intact. He’d felt too nauseous earlier to think of anything but how shitty he felt and how badly he wanted this thing to be over. Holding his breath, he lifted his left arm and pulled down the sleep-wrinkled sleeve of his sweater. Fine black lines and curlicues stood out, bold and proud against his skin.

_Angel wings and things. Pieces of Jongin imprinted on my skin, imprinted on my soul_. The words resounded in his mind, and his eyes traced the lines curling onto his palm. Then he was staring at Jongin again, admiring the curve of the sleeping boy’s eyelids, and the thick lashes resting on the tops of his cheeks.

“Hey,” Jongin said all of a sudden, his voice a deep rumble that startled Kyungsoo. His eyes were still shut but his hand was rubbing small circles into the small of Kyungsoo's back. 

“Hey.” 

“Sorry if I woke you,” Kyungsoo whispered. 

“Actually, it was your pitbull BFF who woke me,” Jongin snorted—eyes still closed.

“Wait, you heard us? And you were awake the whole time I was—” Kyungsoo gaped.

“I liked it. . .the way you touched me when you thought I was asleep. I didn't want you to stop.” Jongin threaded his fingers through Kyungsoo’s, his grip firm and warm.

"Is it possible to die of embarrassment because oh my God."

Jongin's lazy, sensual smile almost made Kyungsoo forget how mortified he was. That is, right up until he said, "I especially liked it when you were touching my mouth."

"Now I know you're just laughing at me," Kyungsoo grumbled as he aimed a fierce glare in Jongin's direction.

"No, I'm _flirting_ with you, duh," Jongin said just before he half lifted, half manoeuvred Kyungsoo so he ended up lying on top of him. "Why don't you do that thing with my mouth again. With your finger?"

"You’re a brat, Kim Jongin!" Kyungsoo punched his shoulder with feeling.

“You can call me anything you want, Do Kyungsoo, as long as you kiss me.” Jongin’s voice was husky as his hand cupped Kyungsoo’s neck and pulled him close. Kyungsoo’s eyes closed as they bumped noses, and Jongin’s lips fit over his—soft and undemanding. Healing. “I love you, Soo,” Jongin whispered, his mouth leaving kisses on his neck, his arms holding him tight. “You’re going to be great tonight. You’ll see.”

And as he kissed Jongin back, Kyungsoo let himself believe his words. Just for a little while.

* * *

The _samgaetang_ bubbled away aggressively in the small black claypot as Jongin ladled the clear broth out into steel bowls. They’d driven out to the small, family-owned restaurant fifteen minutes earlier and managed to snag a table for two in the back of the shop. Shallow frown lines were marring the smooth expanse of Kyungsoo’s forehead, but he forced a smile as Jongin placed the bowl of soup in front of him.

“Eat. You need to eat or you're just going to feel like puking for the rest of the day.” 

“I know. . .but the thought of putting anything into my mouth right now is just. . .I don't know if I can, Jongin.” He shook his head, looking tired and strung out.

“I'll do it for you then,” Jongin warned as he scooped some of the steaming liquid from Kyungsoo's bowl.

“Don't you dare, Kim Jongin.” Kyungsoo was scowling openly at him now. It made him even more attractive and Jongin didn't even know how this was even possible. 

“I will if you don't take the spoon,” Jongin said, grinning. The situation wasn't even remotely funny, but he needed to divert Kyungsoo’s attention from more stressful things.

“That's blackmail, ugh,” Kyungsoo complained, but at least he was taking the steel spoon from Jongin. Cautiously, he sipped the _samgaetang_ , letting the flavors cling to his tongue before declaring that Umma’s was much better. Jongin shook his head in disbelief because at breakfast, Umma had asked Kyungsoo if he wanted anything special for lunch, to which he'd mumbled, “Jongin’s taking me for _samgaetang_.” It was the first Jongin had heard of this but he knew better than to say anything as Kyungsoo’s hand had squeezed his thigh, clearly warning him to play along. 

“You know my _samgaetang_ is better than any _samgaetang_ you’ll find in in Koreatown, Do Kyungsoo,” she had scoffed, eyebrows raised, as she gave her son a critical look.

“Umma, that’s not the point,” Kyungsoo said, sighing.

“Then what is the point? I can make perfectly delicious _samgaetang_ for you, and we can have a nice lunch to wish you well for your concert tonight. What’s wrong with that? Can’t a mother cook a nice meal for her son?” Kyungsoo’s umma didn’t sound offended. Not exactly. But even Jongin could tell that she was a little hurt by her son’s rejection of her offer. 

“That’s not what—” Kyungsoo tried to explain before making a noise of utter frustration. As mother and son eyed each other from opposite ends of the table, Kyungsoo’s fingers pressing hard into his thigh. Jongin knew he had to help; he had no fucking idea what he’d do but he knew he had to try. 

“Umma, can I say something?” Jongin said finally—breaking the eight-second long impasse between Kyungsoo and his umma.

“Of course you can, dear,” she answered distractedly, her gaze never leaving her son’s troubled face.

“I think. . .I think Soo just needs to get out of the house and do stuff so he won’t think about tonight so much. That’s all it is. It’s really not about the food, Umma.”

“It really isn’t, Umma. Everyone knows your _samgaetang_ is the best in town,” Kyungsoo chimed in.

“Don’t patronize me, Soo,” she said, shooting him a glare. “I would rather cook for you, but fine, I get what you boys are saying.” Then she turned to face Jongin, “Make sure he doesn’t eat anything spicy, Jongin. Luhan and I will never hear the end of it if Soo screws up his voice.” She stopped to give a drawn out sigh, before adding, “Minseok can really flog a dead topic and Soo having _kimchi_ throat is just that kind of topic. That boy can go on for months, so just keep Soo off the _kimchi_.”

“Yes, Umma.”

“I’m _right here_ ,” Kyungsoo pointed out, his voice full of disdain. “And I'm not a complete fool. I know better than to mess up my voice on the day of the concert.”

“Dumber things have happened,” she said, rolling her eyes. Then she leant forward to place her palm over Kyungsoo’s hand. “Go. Do what you have to. Clear your head. Distract yourself. Tonight, you’ll go up on that stage and you’ll be magnificent. . .and you know what? Even if you’re not, I wouldn’t be any less proud of you. Do you understand, son?”

“Yes, Umma,” Kyungsoo gripped her tiny hand in his. Everyone had just sat there in awkward silence until Umma began talking about Seungchae’s latest milestone. And just like that, they were talking again—about everything but Kyungsoo’s concert jitters. Now, three hours after the scene at breakfast, Kyungsoo was naturally regretting his decision to eat out.

“You should just have eaten at home. You're such an ass!” Jongin laughed.

“But I'm an ass with the voice of an angel,” Kyungsoo said, with a grin that was aiming at confident but didn’t quite make it. Kyungsoo had lost so much of his spunk in the past few weeks and it pulled at Jongin’s heart, weighing it down. 

“And an ego so big it could flatten the entire downtown area,” Jongin teased.

“Fuck off, Kim Jongin.”

“Eat your soup, Do Kyungsoo.”

“I want Umma’s,” he grumbled—almost, but not quite pouting. Jongin felt something twist in his chest, like he'd never get enough of that pout. Like he'd never even want to get enough of it.

“You're an idiot. Next time just let Umma cook for you.”

“THERE WILL BE NO NEXT TIME, ARE YOU MAD? No more solo performances for me!” Kyungsoo's eyebrows had shot up in indignation and Jongin couldn't help smiling.

“Just—” Jongin bumped Kyungsoo’s knee with his own, and to his relief, Kyungsoo pushed back. “Just eat your soup, okay?” 

“I'm so done with _samgaetang_ that isn't Umma’s.” Kyungsoo seemed to crumple into himself and Jongin knew, instinctively, that this had nothing to do with the fucking soup. But before he could figure out how to make Kyungsoo feel better, his phone rang.

“Mother?” he said warily. What was this about?

“Hi Jongin,” she greeted in a voice that was subdued and hesitant. She sounded like she was expecting him to hang up on her, and for whatever reason, this idea disturbed him. Then she was speaking again, “You haven’t been home yet have you? I didn’t miss you?”

“I—” Groaning inside, Jongin remembered the text message from the night before, the one where Mother had asked: _will I see you tomorrow?_. He’d meant it when he’d told her he would see her at home; but that was before he’d found Kyungsoo bent over a sink, his body still reeling from the aftershocks of anxious vomiting. Jongin couldn’t—no, he _wouldn’t_ leave Kyungsoo. 

He was curious about his mother and why she was taking a sudden interest in his life. But as far as he was concerned, he didn't owe her anything—no matter what Ahjumma had to say about it. She didn’t own any piece of Jongin’s soul and he would hang on to the pieces that remained for as long as he could. Kyungsoo though. . .Jongin would give Kyungsoo every single piece of his soul if he asked.

_I owe you nothing, Jang Soora_. 

The words echoed in Jongin’s head, making it hurt. Kyungsoo was watching him with the beginnings of a worried look, his knee and ankle pressing into Jongin’s. 

“Jongin? Are you okay? Why aren't you saying anything?” There was naked concern in his mother’s voice, and Jongin realized that it was more emotion than she’d expressed in years. He hadn’t heard her sound this rattled since that time he'd gotten lost at camp. 

“I'm fine. I just—” 

“Yes?”

“I can't go home right now,” he said, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead. Kyungsoo's face was suffused with worry by now and Jongin gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

He could hear the disappointment hovering at the edges of her voice as she asked if he would be home that night.

“I can't promise, Mother.”

“I—okay. I hope there's nothing wrong? You're okay?”

“I'm fine,” Jongin said before biting his bottom lip.

“I'm glad,” Mother said but she sounded more anxious than anything.

“I'll—” Jongin closed his eyes as Kyungsoo's hand took hold of his in the crowded restaurant. As Kyungsoo squeezed his hand, Jongin decided that maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith. “Mother?”

“Yes?” Had a note of hope wrapped itself around her _yes_?

“I'll be home tomorrow. . .Maybe we can, I dunno, maybe we can go out for lunch or something. I mean, since we couldn't do dinner that night you asked.”

“I'd love that!” 

“I might bring Kyungsoo,” Jongin said in his usual detached way. But this time, his default indifference felt wrong. Unfair. Like he needed to soften the blow. “Is that okay with you? If I bring Kyungsoo?” 

“Anything you like, Jongin. I just—as long as I get to see you. That's all that matters.” Hope and relief laced her voice and Jongin was happy he'd given her _something_.

“Tomorrow then,” he said.

“Tomorrow, Jongin,” she said. 

Then he was saying _bye_ and ending the call.

“Are you bringing me?” Kyungsoo asked, point blank—a curious expression on his face.

“I don't know, Soo. I don't know anything when it comes to Jang Soora.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Today isn't the day for talking about my fucked up relationship with my mom.” 

It was only when Kyungsoo's eyebrows shot up that Jongin realized he'd said _mom_ instead of _mother_.


	17. Inquieto

Umma had prepared gyeran mari and mandu soup for Kyungsoo’s Minseok-approved pre-concert meal so they were now seated at the kitchen table, waiting to be fed. The dress rehearsal had progressed without a hitch. All the performers and crew were preoccupied with making sure everything went smoothly, the lighting, sound, performers getting their cues right. No one had been watching him sing with anything but fragmented attention. He’d been nervous as fuck but still able to function. Barely. But whatever worked. Kyungsoo was all too aware, though, that the nervousness he’d felt while singing solo at a rehearsal was nothing but a pale imitation of the terror he would experience when he had to sing solo at the actual concert. Just the idea of standing on a stage in a few hours was making the bile rise in his throat more swiftly than he could deal with. 

“Soo?” The somber expression on Jongin's face was probably a mirror of his own, and Umma’s forehead was creased into lines of concern. Kyungsoo sighed—suddenly feeling even more fatigued now than he'd already been feeling for most of the day.

It was quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet. And Kyungsoo knew it was his fault. He was like a black hole right now—sucking all the joy and life out of any room he walked into. Jongin wasn’t the kind of person who was ever noisy, but he was even more quiet than usual today. And then there was Umma. His mother was Jongin’s polar opposite. A summer storm with frequently occurring thunderclaps and lightning bolts, that was Umma. But for the past hour, even his irrepressible mother had been reduced to a less than explosive spring shower. Kyungsoo felt bad for dampening everyone’s spirits but at the same time, he didn’t have any spare energy left in him to care enough to do anything about it.

He slumped further into the hard, wooden back of his chair before looking up, his eyes meeting Jongin's. Jongin mouthed the words: _You okay?_ and Kyungsoo gave him a reassuring nod that held no hint of the pool of messy feels that lurked beneath. Not that it mattered because Jongin didn't look like he was buying it. When members of the Do Family were around, Jongin tended to be a little self-conscious, his body kind of folding into itself like if he were quiet enough, no one would notice he was there. He was more comfortable around Umma, but still, he was never the one to initiate physical contact with Kyungsoo. So Kyungsoo couldn't help the tiny gasp that escaped when Jongin’s arm reached across the kitchen table to take Kyungsoo's hand, his warm fingers soothing, sustaining.

“Try to finish as much as you can, Soo,” Umma instructed as she ladled clear, anchovy broth and dumplings into glossy, white ceramic bowls. “Minseok said you _must_ eat. It’s non-negotiable.” Her voice was firm as she transferred the stone pot back onto the stove, her small hands lost in the stiff fabric of her red, checked oven mitts.

“I’ll try, Umma,” Kyungsoo swallowed, his stomach queasy as he watched the mandu float about, listless, in a sea of well-seasoned broth. It looked delicious enough but when the rising steam wafted into his nostrils, Kyungsoo had to work really hard not to dry heave. When he finally managed to rein in the nausea, he looked up and caught Umma’s expression of pure concern. Kyungsoo blinked and looked away, pretending not to see.

When he had the courage to look in her direction again, Umma’s fingers were playing agitatedly with the hem of her dark apron. She looked like she was about to burst at the seams and start leaking overprotective maternal advice and (gruffly expressed) words of comfort. But to Kyungsoo’s eternal relief, she clamped down on her instincts to be an overprotective mother hen.

“Will you just bloody eat, Soo? I don’t want any trouble with Minseok. Luhan actually texted me half an hour ago to say—what did he say again?” Distractedly, she picked her phone up from the counter and searched for the text message. She squinted as she held the screen further away so she could make out the letters. “Okay, these are Luhan’s exact words: _Umma, please make Soo eat or Minseok will be horrible. HORRIBLE. For a HORRIBLY long and HORRIBLE time_. I think the poor boy knows what he’s talking about.”

“See? This is why more people need to stand up to Kim Minseok. People need to say no to him so the tyrant doesn’t get an impossibly fat head and think he can boss everyone around,” Kyungsoo pointed out in aggrieved tones. 

“Do Kyungsoo!” His mother’s voice was dripping with disapproval but Kyungsoo didn't give two fucks right now. Jongin was giving his ankle a gentle nudge as if to say let it go and he defiantly ignored the warning. He didn't want to follow Minseok's orders. He didn't want to eat the goddamn dumplings. He didn't want to let things go. And above all, he didn't want to be on that stage tonight.

He didn't want to any of those things but he also knew he couldn't avoid them. Kyungsoo might be falling apart but he couldn't deny the practical side of his nature. Eating was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now but it was also an irksome chore he couldn't afford to skip. If he didn't eat something now, he’d be bent over double with gastric during his performance and that was 100% not an outcome he wanted.

“Fine. I'll eat.” He knew he was being pissy and all kinds of asshole but he was too stressed out now to care. It couldn't have been easy for Jongin and Umma to stomach his attitude but they didn’t call him out on it. And he was thankful. So so thankful.

So he tolerated it when Jongin picked up neat, compact slices of omelette with his chopsticks and transferred them onto Kyungsoo’s plate—doing it in small increments, one piece at a time. It was like he was afraid Kyungsoo would be overwhelmed if there was more than one item of food on his plate at a time.

With grim determination, Kyungsoo chewed his way through three slices of gyeran mari—managing, miraculously, to keep it down. Umma’s gyeran mari was always delicious but today it just tasted like sawdust (not that Kyungsoo even knew what sawdust tasted like). But sawdust or whatever, it seemed like the food might actually stay in his tummy instead of trying to claw its way back out. He didn't even protest when Jongin placed another dumpling on his plate.

In the background, he could hear Umma clucking her tongue and more importantly, biting it (which was fortunate because he really didn’t want to be sassing her right now if she said something provoking). She seemed to sense his need for space, though, and refrained from making any more comments (even if she looked like her head was about to explode from holding in all the things she was dying to say). Instead, she bustled around the kitchen, preparing ingredients for the simple meal the rest of the Do Family would eat before heading to the auditorium for the 7.30 pm concert.

His mother wasn't used to seeing Kyungsoo in this state so he had to give her props for restraining herself. She'd only seen him like this once—when he was auditioning for a place in Garnier. Kyungsoo had choral performances all the time but none of them had ever reduced him to a solid ball of dread and panic. 

Performing with the choir was something he was centered and calm about. He got to sing on a stage with a bunch of people he knew, people he’d spent hours rehearsing with, people he trusted. His fellow choral singers were like a security blanket against judging stares if his voice was anything less than perfect or if it wandered off key a fraction. 

In other words, when he was up there for choir, Kyungsoo could just soak in the heightened, adrenaline-charged atmosphere that came with performing and let the music seep into his bones and ground him. His eyes would be on the conductor as he watched for his cues to sing. His ears would be on the music and the voices harmonizing around him. Who had time to even think about the audience let alone be gripped by fear?

Thus, pre-concert meals in the family home were normally stress-free affairs spilling over with Umma’s chatter and his snarky responses. They were not filled with the soul-sapping silence of today’s pre-solo performance meal. Umma didn't handle silence well so Kyungsoo was beyond grateful that she wasn't trying to paper over the void with tortured conversation. Kyungsoo promised himself he'd never agree to another solo performance again. Never ever. He didn't want Umma seeing him break like this again.

_Too much navel-gazing, Do Kyungsoo. Just fucking swallow the food so you can go._

❅

By the end of the ordeal, he'd managed to eat three slices of gyeran mari and three mandu, i.e. all the food Jongin had given him. Kyungsoo would have stopped at one for each but Jongin had somehow coaxed him into taking more, admitting a little sheepishly that Minseok had texted him, threatening to make his life a living hell if he didn’t make sure Kyungsoo ate enough.

“Since when have you given in to threats?” Kyungsoo eyed him skeptically.

“I don’t give in to threats. I just didn’t feel much like having that pit bull’s jaws clamped around my calf for three days.”

“You make Minseok sound like a rabid dog,” Kyungsoo managed to sound disapproving even though he was trying really hard not to laugh. 

“Minseok _is_ a rabid dog,” Umma chimed in. “When he gets riled up.”

“Hmm. . .sounds like someone I know,” Kyungsoo muttered not quite under his breath as he pushed his chair back and stood up. He’d eaten enough.

“Did you just insult me, Do Kyungsoo?”

“Who would even dare?” Kyungsoo gave her a bland smile. “I need to go and get ready for the concert. Thanks for the food, Umma.”

"I swear to God if you didn't have to stand up on stage tonight I would kick you in the shins so hard, Do Kyungsoo," she yelled threateningly.

Kyungsoo was deadpan as he said, "Violence is never the answer." Then he was tugging a mortified Jongin by the hand and herding him towards the door.

"See you at the concert, Umma," Jongin said in placating tones before allowing himself to be dragged out of the kitchen. 

Umma looked like she was going to let loose a torrent of expletives but in the end, all she said was, “Take care of him, Jonginnie.” All he had time for was a hurried smile and a nod before they exited the kitchen.

"Sometimes, I think you have a death wish. Your noona this morning and now Umma." Jongin dragged his hand over his face in disbelief. 

"Meh, that's just business as usual. The only death wish here is from agreeing to do a solo in the first place."

Jongin’s face fell. "Oh. Yeah. That." 

"I know, right?” Kyungsoo gave a long, dejected sigh.

❅

Jongin was sitting on the edge of the mattress, his eyes on Kyungsoo as he slipped his right arm into the sleeve of the black, long-sleeved shirt he’d decided on for tonight. Kyungsoo still looked a little pale but at least he’d gained some color from the light meal he’d just eaten. His nervousness was probably affecting his coordination though, because Kyungsoo was struggling just to get his other arm into the other sleeve. 

Jongin didn’t even hesitate. He stood up, guiding the fabric over Kyungsoo’s arm and straightening it over his narrow shoulders. Left hand clasping Kyungsoo’s shoulder, Jongin let his other palm glide gently down Kyungsoo’s chest and stomach—the black cotton undershirt warm from the skin beneath it. 

“Black suits you,” he said as his fingers played with the silver angel wings that rested over Kyungsoo’s sternum. He could just see the initial _K_ engraved into the silver. It was funny how Kyungsoo had managed to engrave himself into Jongin’s heart in a matter of days, when Jongin had spent years and years locking everyone else out. 

“Black suits my mood, you mean?” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes as he reached for his shirt placket and top button. After a few seconds of fumbling, Kyungsoo groaned—sounding very annoyed.

“Let me,” Jongin said in a quiet voice as his hands cupped Kyungsoo's trembling ones.

“I can do it myself,” Kyungsoo protested bitterly, hands still clinging to the fabric.

“I know, Soo. But just. . .let me do this for you, okay?” Jongin’s voice was gentle and calming. “I can’t be with you on the stage but I can help you with this now. So let me. Okay?”

Kyungsoo wrestled with his sleeve for four more seconds before finally surrendering, his hands falling and resting at his sides. Biting his bottom lip in concentration, Jongin gathered the sides of the shirt front together and began doing up the buttons before Kyungsoo could have a change of heart. Once he’d fastened the last button, Jongin took a step backwards and admired the view.

“Beautiful.” Jongin whispered just before he pulled Kyungsoo closer and kissed him. 

"Your eyes are defective,” Kyungsoo accused as he pressed his palm against Jongin's chest, fingers spread out in an almost possessive gesture, or at least that was what Jongin wanted it to be. 

Snorting, Jongin slid his thumb down the side of Kyungsoo's jaw. "I have 20/20 vision. I know what I see." Then he leaned in close, his lips fitting gently over Kyungsoo's. All Kyungsoo did was moan softly as Jongin’s tongue snuck into his mouth, deepening the kiss. Jongin didn’t think he’d ever get enough of the way Kyungsoo’s skin felt against his. The breathy noises Kyungsoo made when they came together like this. The scent of his smooth, clean skin. 

“Like I said, beautiful,” Jongin said when he finally drew back from Kyungsoo. 

"I still say you're blind but fine, I'll take it,” Kyungsoo said in a gruff voice before nuzzling Jongin's neck. Then they just stood quietly in each other’s arms for a while. Kyungsoo’s fingers went over the silken, soft knit of Jongin’s sweater. "I like the way your sweater feels. It looks real expensive." 

"Yeah. It probably is." It was a caramel colored cashmere sweater—one his mother had bought him. She had made a business trip to Milan when he was twenty and on the day of her return, he'd found two flat, expensive-looking gift boxes on the foot of his bed. 

Everything his mother gave him looked and felt expensive and he tried to have as little to do with her gifts as possible. But he did have to attend the occasional formal or semi-formal event. It was easier to just use clothes she'd already bought for him then to try and find formal wear of his own. There were fewer things Jongin hated more than shopping. "My mom gave it to me after one of her business trips."

He'd found the caramel sweater neatly folded inside the larger box, with an ivory fringed scarf layered over it. Also cashmere. Nothing but the highest quality for Jang Soora—the best that money could buy. A sour tide began rising in Jongin's gut. And as for the smaller gift-box, the flatter one. . .he hadn't thought about that in a long time.

"Does she always buy you things?" There was mild curiosity in Kyungsoo's eyes now, and it was a nice change from the empty dread that had taken up residence there for most of the day. 

Frowning, Jongin asked, "Soo, why are we talking about my mom?"

"Because if we talk about tonight I'll throw up? I'm so done with talking about tonight and how everything is going to be fine when it's fucking _NOT_." There was real panic in Kyungsoo's voice now and Jongin knew he couldn't deny Kyungsoo anything. Not now.

"She buys me stuff. Every few months, I guess. But we don't ever talk about it. I mean I just find things in my room and I know it's not Ahjumma because she wouldn't be able to afford them. It sure as fuck can't be my father because it would be too much effort for a son he forgets he has most days. He'd just give me the money and ask me to buy the shit myself. Mother, though. . .it has to be her." Jongin shrugged. "Maybe it's guilt. Because we have no relationship. Who even knows?" And he told himself that the possibility didn't hurt him. 

Kyungsoo's cool fingers touched his cheek and Jongin was grateful that they weren't shaking so much anymore. “Do you thank her? For the gifts, I mean?”

"Nah. That would be weird. I just wear some of the things when I have to. You know? Like tonight. I wanted to look nice for my boyfriend tonight." Jongin smiled, making a weak attempt at humor.

"You always look nice, Jongin," Kyungsoo teased before turning serious. "But is she okay with that? The fact that you never thank her for the gifts, I mean?"

"Well she's been leaving me things for years, so I guess she’s okay with me not saying anything? I think. . .I think she finds it's easier to give me things than to actually try and talk to me. But, I guess I haven't exactly made things easy for her," Jongin admitted.

"It's not too late, you know? To try with her. I saw the way she looked at you the other day. In her office. She wants a relationship. She might not have wanted one in the past but I'm pretty damned sure she wants one now, Jongin."

"I. . .I just don't know, Soo. I need to think about it. It's been so many years and I just don't know."

"Okay." And then Kyungsoo was in his arms and Jongin just breathed in the scent of his freshly shampooed hair and shower-fresh skin. He just breathed him in and let all thoughts of his mom drain away.

"Don't wrinkle my shirt, okay?" Kyungsoo grumbled. “I don’t really want to iron it a second time.”

“As if I’d let you. You’re so distracted you’d burn holes in it. I’ll do it for you.”

“Kim Jongin, do you even know how to turn on an iron?”

“Sure I do.” Then sheepishly, he added, “In theory, anyway.”

“What do you mean _in theory_?” Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow, watching Jongin suspiciously.

“I watched Ahjumma iron our clothes for years. It's been a few years since I last watched her but I can fucking figure out how to actually use one.”

“Well we’re not testing that theory today. I’ve got other things to worry about. Like how I'm going to apply my eyeliner without stabbing myself in the eye," Kyungsoo groaned. "I'm bad with the shit on a good day and we all know what kind of day today is. I'll just be happy if I don't end up looking like fucking Beetlejuice."

"I have no idea who Beetlejuice is," Jongin laughed as he stroked Kyungsoo's hair, "but I'm gonna guess he looks like a train wreck. With really bad eye makeup."

"Well, he's also a bio-exorcist but yeah," Kyungsoo chuckled. It was the closest thing to a laugh Kyungsoo had produced today and the realization created a tiny ball of pain in Jongin's chest. 

"I don't even want to know what a bio-exorcist does, but I can definitely help you with that eyeliner."

"Duh! Why didn't I think of that? You're an art major after all." 

"I don't think being an art major makes any difference at all when it comes to eyeliner."

"Whatever. At least I won’t be risking my eyesight doing it myself." Kyungsoo sounded relieved as his forehead sank onto Jongin’s chest. Chuckling, Jongin promised not to poke him in the eye.

"Good. Now kiss me before I have to slap on the BB cream and lipstick." 

And for a single moment, everything just stopped as Jongin held Kyungsoo's face in his hands. He stopped worrying about Kyungsoo being worried. He stopped thinking about how confused his mom was making him. His thoughts just stopped as he shut his eyes—heart beginning to race as Kyungsoo's fingertip traced the edges of his mouth, gentle, feathery movements that made his chest ache. 

"You know, this was the second thing I noticed at the bus-stop? The tattoos were kind of terrifying that first time but I think. . .I think I kind of secretly always liked this. Right from the start." There was wonder in Kyungsoo's voice as he touched the piercing. “It’s silver. When did you change it? I could have sworn it was the titanium one this morning but I’ve been so messed up today I can’t be sure of anything.”

“I got it at the same time I bought your angel wings,” Jongin admitted a little sheepishly. “I only changed it while you were at the dress rehearsal—when I went home to change. I was saving it for tonight.”

“Oh my God, Kim Jongin. Is this your version of having couple rings?” Kyungsoo teased.

“Shut up, Soo.”

“You know I’m just teasing. I love it,” Kyungsoo said just before he kissed him, his tongue playing with the cold metal. 

"Is that the only reason you kissed me that first time? Because you were curious about the piercing?" 

"Well, I wanted to know what the piercing felt like but more than anything, I just wanted to fucking kiss you. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again and I wanted at least one kiss to keep for myself, you know?"

"You thought you wouldn't see me again? What the hell, Soo?"

"Don't be mad but you didn't exactly look like the type to stick around, okay? And as for me. . .well, I was me. Just a choir nerd with no filter. Jesus, when I think back on all those questions I asked you at Oriel Cafe? I'm surprised you didn't just make me take the bus home."

"You’re not a nerd—well, not really anyway,” Jongin said teasingly and Kyungsoo whacked him on the shoulder in a show of indignation. 

“Dude, you’re supposed to tell me I’m the coolest person you’ve ever known.”

“You’re the coolest person I’ve ever known,” Jongin repeated the words, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Then he placed his right palm on Kyungsoo’s cheek, cradling it. “You honestly thought I could stay away from you after the time we spent together at the cafe?” 

“We don't like the same coffee or the same music. You have tattoos and piercings and I. . . I don’t even have pierced ears. You’re cool and I’m not. To be honest, I’ll never be cool and that’s something I'm okay with. But you—well, you’re _you_ , i.e. the coolest person I know. There are just so many reasons why we don’t make sense together so why wouldn't you have stayed away from me, Kim Jongin?" 

"I could never have stayed away from you. You saw how screwed up I was and you still gave me a chance. You saved me. I didn’t even know I was drowning but you saved me."

All Kyungsoo could say was _Oh Jongin_ , and then they were in each other's arms and Kyungsoo didn't even care that he was going to have to teach Jongin how to switch on an iron later.

❅

"Don't move," Jongin said as he dotted BB cream on Kyungsoo's cheeks, forehead and chin. Then, his careful fingertips were spreading cool, beige liquid over Kyungsoo’s skin. 

"I haven't seen you wear any makeup but you seem so pro at this. Do you wear makeup? When will I get to see—?"

"Never," Jongin laughed. "I can't stand having stuff on my face. I don't even own a pair of sunglasses. It drives Kris mad in summer because I go around squinting at the sun 24/7 instead of wearing sunglasses."

"I don't own any sunglasses either," Kyungsoo said thoughtfully. "I hate that you can't really see a person's eyes when they're wearing sunglasses. Like they could be lying or sad or angry or hurt and you wouldn't even know. I've never liked them so I won't wear them either. But why won't you wear them, Jongin?"

"Because I don't like the way they feel against my face." Jongin shrugged, looking like he didn't altogether believe his own reason for avoiding sunglasses. Kyungsoo needed to ask Jongin more about it, needed to really get to the bottom of things. But not today. Today was not a day for hard questions and Kyungsoo had already subjected Jongin to enough hard questions as it was. 

"I don't get it. How’d you get so good at makeup if you’ve never worn any?”

“Actually, I lied. I did use eyeliner for a while. How did I forget? I went through an emo phase in high school where I listened to way too much MCR. The Killers. Good Charlotte. Eyeliner seemed cool at the time. But I never wore anything but the eyeliner. That’s all I was willing to put up with.”

“MCR?”

“My Chemical Romance. They're. . .I’ll let you listen to them some time. It’s hard to explain music. This morning, when we were in bed? That was _Disenchanted_ I was humming to you. It's an MCR song.”

“I can’t promise I’ll like the real thing but really liked your version of it.” 

“I can’t sing! Or hum, for that matter.” Jongin was giving him a really dubious look but Kyungsoo ignored him.

“But I still don’t get how you got so good at makeup?” His expression was openly curious and Jongin had no hope in hell of resisting it, of resisting Kyungsoo’s questions.

“Remember my boarding school roommate who was into palmistry? Yixing? Well, he was also into drama and music. Played the piano really well and got involved in plays all the time so he was always on stage. But he said the only artistic thing he could do with his hands was play the piano. So he got me to do his makeup for him. Anyway, it's not like there was hella lot to do on weekends. So when I wasn’t spray painting school property, I was doing my roommate’s makeup.” Jongin gave a self-conscious laugh. “He taught me the basics and made me watch some YouTube tutorials and I was set.” 

“What other talents are you hiding from me, Jongin?” Kyungsoo asked in a voice filled with admiration and awe. His anxiety about tonight was shoved into the background as he took in Jongin’s almost-shy expression. 

“That’s all, I swear. Now stay still. I’m about to apply your eyeliner and I’d rather not stick you in the eye while I'm doing it.”

At Jongin’s instruction, Kyungsoo forced himself to be as static as possible. Then, as the cold, inky liner brush glided over his right eyelid, he vowed never to let Jongin go.

❅

Kyungsoo looked so handsome in his black button-down shirt and dress jacket made from some kind of shimmery midnight blue fabric. According to Kyungsoo, it was shantung silk and he'd hired the jacket from some clothing store in town. His black shirt was tucked into black leather pants he'd gotten from the same rental shop. 

Kyungsoo’s hands were cold inside his. They were cold, so cold, and there was a slight tremor to them. But Jongin's chest pricked with pride that Kyungsoo had gotten his nerves under control enough to make it to the auditorium. 

“I know I’ve been telling you this for days, but don't forget you have this, okay?” Jongin said in a quiet voice as he placed his palm over Kyungsoo’s sternum. He could feel the bumpy contours of Kyungsoo's ribs and the hard edges of the angel wing pendant he’d gifted Kyungsoo in the park all those days ago. “And you have wings here, too,” he said as his fingers went over the tips of the angel wings he'd drawn onto Kyungsoo's wrist and palm and a Sharpie.

“I'm so scared, Jongin. I'm just. . .I can't remember any of the words,” he whispered, his eyes filling with panic.

“You can do this, Kyungsoo. You’ll go up on that stage and you’ll fly. I know you will.” He rubbed the surface of Kyungsoo's tattoo, hoping the gentle, stroking motions would calm him down a little. 

“I'll try, Jongin. If I’m puking up my dinner, I might have trouble remembering, but I’ll try.”

“Soo, we have to go backstage now.” Minseok’s voice was edged with a mixture of impatience and tension and Kyungsoo wanted more than anything to tell his best friend that he was ditching the concert and going home. 

But he couldn’t. Being professional was one of the most important aspects of being a performer and Kyungsoo was a trained performer. He had no idea how he was going to do it but he would somehow get through this solo. 

There were so many things going through his head now. So many things Kyungsoo wanted to say but in the end, all he said to Jongin was “How do I look?”

“You look perfect, Soo,” Jongin smiled as he brushed Kyungsoo's hair off his forehead and dropped a fleeting kiss on his mouth, careful not smudge the layer of nude lipstick.

In a desperate voice, Kyungsoo said, “I love you, Jongin.”

“I love you, too,” Jongin smiled, their foreheads touching. “Now go up there and fly.”

_Fly_?

Kyungsoo couldn’t see himself doing it, but for Jongin, he would try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been more or less 7 months or so since my last update and I'm really sorry it's taken me this long to sort things out in my head. I've had all kinds of anxieties about this fic - fears that I will disappoint, fears that readers won't like my current writing style, fears that this will sound like a filler chapter when I don't mean it to be one :/
> 
> Anyway TL;DR, I've never thought about giving up on this fic and I love it too much to abandon it. But at the same time, it's a source of so much pressure and anxiety that it takes me months and months and months just to get an update out. For that, I am truly sorry but I guess I feel a lot like Kyungsoo does in this chapter. I just don't want to disappoint everyone and I feel like I'm doomed to do so no matter how hard I try. So after much agonizing, this is my offering and I hope you will accept it, flaws and all. And I hope that it will not fall too far short of your expectations.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos/up votes are a writer's only form of encouragement from readers, so if you like this fic at all, I hope you will leave one or the other or better still, both. Thank you for reading and for staying with this story even though I'm such a slow shit writer :/
> 
> With all my love, Adele.


	18. Precipitando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  Hi, everyone. It's been almost fifteen months since the last update and I know I sound like a broken record but I'm really, really sorry for the delay. i've been working on this chapter, off and on, for the past year and it kept growing to the point that I had to split it into two parts. What you're about to read is the completed, first half of that planned chapter. 
> 
> I apologize if this feels like a filler chapter but it's not meant to be one and I swear I'm not trying to keep everyone hanging with Kyungsoo's performance. Things just kind of got out of control and secondary characters like BBH and Henry Lau insisted on stopping to talk to Kyungsoo and next thing I knew I had almost 6k of blablaba. I still feel like this chapter will disappoint many readers. But at the same time, I feel like I have done the best I can and no matter how hard I try, it's never going to be good enough. So even though I feel like Kyungsoo and the kid in Eminem's _Lose Yourself_ , I'm going to take a leap of faith and post this anyway.  
>   
>   
>   
>   
> 

  
  
  


“You’re having Spicy Italian.” Kris was glaring at him like he’d just committed some kind of crime against humanity.

“Huh?” Jongin blinked at him in utter confusion. He turned to Tao for help but his friend was too preoccupied with stretching his legs out and groaning softly. He’d had a killer of a six-hour shift and just being able to finally sit down seemed to be sending him into spirals of near orgasm. Or at least that’s what it sounded like to Jongin. 

“You always have Roast Beef or the Cold Cut Combo. Since high school, all you’ve ever ordered is Roast Beef or Cold Cut Combo. Now, you’re eating Spicy Italian. I feel like I’m in a goddamn body snatchers movie and you’re not actually Kim Jongin. You’re just some Spicy Italian-eating alien _pretending_ to be Kim Jongin.”

“It’s just a sub, Kris. Jesus. Calm the fuck down,” Jongin said, his voice free of inflection as he took a listless sip of Coke. 

“I will not calm the fuck down. This is monumental,” Kris announced as he waved a half-eaten Meatball Marinara around for dramatic effect.

“If you say so, man.” Jongin ignored his friend and took a tranquil bite of his Spicy Italian. Such a fuss. He almost regretted ordering it. Almost but not quite, he thought, as the savory, fiery flavors simmered on his tongue. After years and years of Roast Beef and Cold Cut Combo, it really was a nice motherfucking change. 

“How’s Kyungsoo holding up?” Tao asked as he finally straightened in his seat. The lactic acid in his legs had probably dispersed a little—enough that he felt inclined to join in the conversation, anyway. 

“He was okay when I left him at the auditorium,” Jongin replied in his typical Jongin give-you-nothing-but-the-bare-bones fashion. 

“It's how he deals when he has to perform that I'm worried about,” Tao frowned as he took a large bite out of his Italian B.M.T. It was a thing with him to cycle through the menu so that he ate something different every time he came in here. Tao was Jongin's polar opposite when it came to ordering food. 

Jongin narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

“He told me he gets stage fright when he has to perform solo. Wait, you knew, right? He told you? Man, I didn't know this was supposed to be some big secret or I wouldn't have said anything. Kyungsoo didn't make it sound like it was, though. He was just really keyed up about the concert.”

“Don’t worry. He told me how he gets. He's—” Jongin let out a long exhale. “Today was a little rough but I think he'll be okay.”

“That's great.” Tao gave a tired half-smile as he ate. For a while, all they did was eat their meal and sip on their Cokes.

“What time do we have to be at the auditorium?” Kris broke the silence at last with the logistics question. Being the legit working adult among them, he was usually the one to ask the logistics questions. It seemed to make him feel useful so Jongin and Tao let him do it.

“The concert starts at 7.30 but they open the doors at 6.30. As long as you guys get there by 7.15, you’re good. I need to be back at the auditorium by 7, though.”

“Why so early?” Kris eyed him with razor sharp inquisitiveness.

“I offered to bring Umma and the rest of the family to their seats,” Jongin explained. He avoided Kris’ gaze as he stirred his drink. He stared, unseeing as the ice-cubes swirled around the skinny white straw. Was Kyungsoo okay? And even more important, would he be okay when he had to get up on that stage alone in two hours’ time? Jongin didn’t know. He just didn’t know. 

“Ushering the family and sitting with them for the duration of the concert. Sounds pretty serious, Kim Jongin. Sounds like some heavy commitment you got there.” 

He shrugged. “I guess?”

“Does it freak you out?” Kris asked, his eyes perceptive and penetrating. “Having a boyfriend and wanting to be with him all the time? Meeting the boyfriend’s family and wanting to hang out with them? I mean we’ve known you since high school and before Kyungsoo, you’d never even dated anyone for real. One-night stands do not count, ok? Suddenly all this shit is happening and. . .do you resent it? Do you resent being Kyungsoo’s boyfriend?”

“I should.” Thumb and index finger curled around the straw, Jongin continued to stir his Coke. Round and round the ice-cubes went, spiraling and clinking against each other. 

“But you don’t resent it, do you?” Tao asked, his mouth turning up at the corners in a perceptive way. 

Jongin sighed. “No. I honestly don’t.” 

“I’m glad. You were burning yourself out—what you were doing before. We didn’t wanna say anything because. . .well, we would have said something eventually but it’s great we didn’t have to in the end. Thank fuck. Kyungsoo and you, you’re good together. Y’know?” Kris didn’t do that whole I’m-your-big-brother-so-listen-up thing much at all but he did it when it counted and this seemed to be one of those times. 

“I guess we are. We’re good together.” Jongin sort of smiled. He’d realized they were good together weeks ago but it was still kinda cool getting the stamp of approval from his best friends. 

“I mean, you even got all dressed up for him. Look at that fancy sweater and leather jacket,” Kris waved his fingers in the general direction of Jongin’s clothes, the light from the overhead lamps bouncing off of the silver rings on Kris’ fingers in the most distracting way. 

“I’ll be sitting with his family, asshole. It’s not like I can show up dressed like a hobo.” The words should have sounded harsh but there was a smile tugging on Jongin’s lips. He’d die before he let Kris see it though. 

“My point is, you totally made an effort.” Kris’ tone was matter-of-fact. No judgement in it. 

“They’re worth it. That’s all,” Jongin admitted quietly.

“That’s cool, y’know? That your boyfriend’s parents are okay with you guys dating. That they like you and want you over at their house and want to sit with you at concerts. It’s really, really, hella cool.” And that’s when Jongin finally picked up on it, the wistfulness in Kris’ eyes.

“Don’t fuck it up is what Kris is trying to say, in the most long ass confusing way.” Tao laughed openly at his boyfriend before yelping in pain as Kris gave his thigh a hard, disgruntled pinch.

“I won’t,” Jongin says with a reluctant smile. 

“Good. Now finish your goddamn dinner,” Kris deadpanned as he leaned back in his chair and rested the back of his right hand on top of Tao’s left thigh.

“Yes, Mom,” Jongin retorted. Without warning, his mind was flooded with imaged of Jang Soora with her perfect hair and perfect face and perfect makeup. Perfect Jang Soora who was not a mom. Perfect Jang Soora would never lower herself to eat anything in a place like this. 

Making an impatient noise, Jongin put his mostly finished sub down. He’d lost all urge to take the next bite of Spicy Italian, even if it was the tastiest thing he’d eaten in years.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“He’d better not puke on stage,” Hyewon muttered, her voice matter-of-fact and devoid of all sympathy.

“What did you say?” Umma squawked, loudly enough that her agitated words could be heard above the insistent buzz of concertgoers in the auditorium. 

Hyewon tucked flyaway strands of coppery hair behind her right ear before repeating (quite nonchalantly) that Kyungsoo had better not puke on stage. “He was in the toilet for ages this morning. I thought I was gonna die waiting for him to be done with the puking.”

“He was puking this morning? How bad was it?” Umma looked really stressed now and Jongin felt a pang of empathy. He was just as worried about Kyungsoo as she was.

Hyewon shrugged. “It sounded like he was throwing up the last two days’ worth of meals but what do I know?”

“That’s so insensitive, Do Hyewon! There’s nothing wrong with not feeling well and Soo hasn’t done a solo stage performance since he was sixteen. It’s natural for him to be nervous about this. You could be a bit more supportive. Oh my God!” Umma was frowning at her younger daughter, who didn’t look even remotely intimidated. Jongin eyed Kyungsoo’s sister curiously. What was it like to be this together? To be this self-assured? To be this in-your-face? It was something Jongin couldn’t fathom at all, having done his best to fade into the shadows for most of his life. 

“I _was_ being supportive. I am the most supportive sister out there, all right? I mean I almost ruptured my bladder because of that brat and I still didn’t kill him,” she deadpanned.

“Do Hyewon!” Umma hissed and Jongin looked down at his brown leather boots, trying to hide his look of mild amusement. The bickering between Umma and her younger daughter fascinated him. It was ridiculous but he felt like the bickering was their own unique way of expressing their love for each other. Kind of like when Minjung Ahjumma lectured him for drinking or smoking too much. He would have outright smiled at their exchange if the subject matter hadn’t been Kyungsoo’s anxiety levels. As far as he knew, Hyewon and her parents had no idea Kyungsoo suffered from crippling stage fright and Jongin wasn't planning to enlighten them. Not his story to tell.

Mr. Do crossed his arms over his chest in a show of mild impatience. “What time does the concert start again? It’s so noisy in here.” 

“Just five more minutes, aboenim. Kyungsoo’s performance will be the fourth one to so he’ll be on in another half hour. More or less?”

Mr. Do grunted. “That’s not too bad, I suppose. It’s just. . .so loud in here.”

And it was true. The hall was packed with people of all ages, most of whom were either yelling to each other across the hall or scurrying around in search of their seats. It was all a bit much for Jongin too if he was being honest with himself. This was more noise and activity than he normally had to deal with in an entire week let alone one night. 

“I hope Hyeyoon and Seungchae will be all right at home. I don’t like leaving them on their own at night,” Umma said to no one in particular, her brow furrowed in concern.

“They’ll be fine, dear. They can call us if they need anything,” Mr. Do said in a reassuring tone as he took his wife’s hand in his in a comforting gesture that seemed to speak of decades and decades of easy affection. 

Jongin had never seen his parents do anything like that. Mother sometimes took Father’s arm in an oddly formal gesture while Father sometimes placed a hand on the small of her back. Just for a second or two. Their gestures had always seemed brief and impersonal—empty of any kind of sincere emotion. Just like their dealings with Jongin. Brief. Impersonal. Everyone staying in their own, never intersecting bubbles of personal space. 

Did Jongin even want them to intersect? The answer was brutally clear when it came to his father, but his mother had his head and heart in a tangled mess. He felt like he was being pulled towards the borders of his bubble, pressing and pushing to make their bubbles intersect. Pressing and pushing till the sticky threads of the past wrapped themselves around his ankles and pulled him back, dragging him away from the edge. 

_Stay inside where it’s safe._ The words whispered in his head as his heart swiftly erected a shield to keep him safe from hurt.

“Jongin? Are you okay? Do you feel sick?” Umma was watching him, eyes brimming over with concern.

“No, no. I’m fine, Umma. I’m just. . .impatient for the show to start.” He didn’t add that he wanted it to begin so the ordeal could be over for Kyungsoo as soon as possible—so Kyungsoo could finally put an end to weeks of stress and worry. Jongin couldn't care less about watching the other performances but he would deal. For Kyungsoo, he would somehow fucking deal. 

“If you’re sure. Here, have a red ginseng candy. I always have some in my purse for emergencies.” She pushed a small, glossy red packet onto his palm. 

“I’m fine, Umma, really,” Jongin protested but he obediently tore the wrapper and popped the treacle-colored candy into his mouth anyway. He wasn’t keen on the bittersweet, ginseng-tinged flavor but there was no way he was letting Umma see his distaste. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Twenty-Second Annual Concert for the Drama Society of Garnier School for Visual and Performing Arts. My name is Byun Baekhyun and I’ll be your emcee for the evening. The concert will begin shortly so please turn your mobile phones off or switch them to silent mode. Please note that flash photography is strictly prohibited for the duration of this concert. We have a wonderful program for you tonight—” 

On and on the emcee went. Twelve performances, etcetera etcetera, featuring students from both the Drama and Music faculties, etcetera etcetera. Byun Baekhyun’s words weaved their way around the auditorium, loud and clear and persuasive. 

The emcee was charismatic and exuberant in the kind of way Jongin could never be—in the kind of way Kyungsoo could probably never be either. And Jongin was hella grateful for that. Kyungsoo’s calm, quiet confidence was something he was comfortable being around. There was no way he could have handled being around someone with such exhausting levels of energy, and Byun Baekhyun seemed to be in possession of an alarmingly large supply.

He wondered how Kyungsoo was doing backstage. He had called Kyungsoo earlier, when he was driving over to the auditorium. Kyungsoo had been borderline panicky—complaining that he kept fluffing the fucking lyrics and he just fucking knew his makeup was going to fucking smear before the concert even fucking started. 

Jongin had smiled at all the uncharacteristic cussing. ”You’ll be okay, Soo. And maybe you shouldn’t say fuck so much. You’re getting way too used to it. You might let a few f-bombs slip when Umma is around. That won’t be fun. Well, it might be fun for me but maybe not so much fun for you.”

“Fuck off, Kim Jongin! I’m about to have a panic attack. Are you seriously asking me to to swear less, you fucker?!” Kyungsoo’s voice had been bristling with irritation and Jongin had been so relieved. Irritation was better than panic, wasn’t it?

“Just don’t do it in front of Umma is all I’m saying,” Jongin said, punctuating his words with a low chuckle. Kyungsoo was always telling him he liked his laugh. Maybe hearing him laugh would help distract Kyungsoo too. 

“Unbelievable. I’m having a fucking meltdown and my boyfriend is telling me not to do the one thing that’s giving me any fucking relief right now.”

“So dramatic,” Jongin laughed. “Fine. Whatever. Just let those f-bombs rip.” 

“I don’t want to anymore. You’ve ruined it for me—broken my stride, interrupted my flow, shattered my zen and all that. You fucking asshole!” Kyungsoo’s words were aggressive but his voice seemed just a little lighter, just a little less wound up. Thank fuck. He really needed Kyungsoo to focus on something other than how freaked out he was feeling. He needed him to focus on anything but how much he wanted to throw up his dinner.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin said, wondering if Kyungsoo could hear the smile in his apology.

“You sound like the least sorry person on the fucking planet, Kim Jongin!” he scolded.

“I’m sorry, Soo. I swear. Anyway, I know you need to get ready so just. . .Oh for fuck’s sake, I can’t believe I’m going to say something this sappy—”

“Don’t say it then!” Kyungsoo grumbled, sounding very aggrieved. 

“Just remember the wings over your heart and the wings on your wrist,” Jongin said in a voice that was soft and sincere. Then, he lightened the mood by adding, “I used a Sharpie for you, Do Kyungsoo. That’s true sacrifice right there. Don’t make me regret it.”

“There's nothing wrong with Sharpies, you fucking art major snob!”

“Please, Soo. Sharpies are for elementary school kids. KIDS. I'm doing a degree in fine arts. It’s fucking humiliating. Don’t make me regret it,” he half-chuckled.

“You're being an ass but _fine_. I won’t. I can do this. I can go up on that stage and fly.” Kyungsoo uttered the brave words in a voice that shook and Jongin felt a flash of pride. Jongin had never felt proud of anyone or anything in his life but here he was, more proud of Kyungsoo than he could even express. So this was what pride felt like, this swelling warmth deep in his chest. 

“Yes you can. And you will. I’ll be right there with Umma and Hyewon and your dad.” Jongin wasn't sure if he sounded encouraging enough but it was the best he could do.

“Okay, okay,” Kyungsoo had let out a tortured sigh. “I can do this. I can do this.”

Trying to distract him, Jongin had said, “Don’t forget to switch your phone to silent mode.”

“I'm not a complete moron, Kim Jongin.”

“Just saying,” he chuckled and Kyungsoo had cracked a nervous laugh, telling him to _fuck off_ yet again. 

That had been forty minutes ago. He bit his bottom lip. 

_How are you holding up, Soo?”_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Tyrese Williams, one of Kyungsoo’s seniors, was doing a cover of Alicia Keys’ _If I Ain’t Got You_ —his rich, chocolatey vocals rising and dipping soulfully across the stage. _Some people want diamond rings, some just want everything_. . .Kyungsoo loved the song and he would normally be singing along to it, word for word. But even having one of his favorite songs in the background wasn't helping to keep the crushing waves of anxiety at bay. 

Maybe if he could talk to Minseok? Maybe talking to Minseok or having Minseok talk at him would help dissolve the panic threatening to rise up from the floor and drown him. Maybe Minseok could help, but his best friend was nowhere to be found. _Damnit_. He was probably checking on some staging details, whatever the hell that entailed anyway. 

“Dude, you all set?” Byun Baekhyun was waving long, slender fingers in front of his face. The boy had too much pep for Kyungsoo most days, but he seemed more controlled at the moment, like he was forcibly reining in some of that boundless energy. The tension in Kyungsoo’s muscles eased up a little. He couldn't have coped with a full-on Byun Baekhyun tonight. Not tonight. He wasn’t sure why but the other boy seemed to somehow sense that Kyungsoo wasn’t in the mood for his brand of extra. Maybe Minseok had warned him to tone it down and not agitate Kyungsoo. 

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo was too overwhelmed to manage a more coherent reply.

“I know we already had a full dress rehearsal this afternoon but I’m just going to walk you through your section of the program one more time, ok?” Baekhyun was watching him intently, eyes wide with mild apprehension. “When Tyrese is done, there’s the _a capella_ quartet, then Henry Lau’s doing the Yiruma piece, _The River Flows In You_ , and then you’re on. Ok? We good?” 

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo muttered vaguely as the words _NO! I AM NOT FUCKING GOOD_ rattled around in his head like vicious projectiles. 

In the distance, Tyrese was bowing before a loudly applauding audience. Resplendent in a fitted, electric blue suit and shoulder-length dreads, Tyrese waved to the darkened sea of faces. A triumphant grin was lighting up his features and Kyungsoo was struck by a wave of envy. He wanted so much to enjoy himself on the stage the way Tyrese did. Tyrese gave a final bow and exited backstage—on the opposite end from where he was so Kyungsoo couldn’t congratulate him personally. 

“Good luck for later, Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun said as he gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Kyungsoo watched as the emcee’s retreating figure found its way to centerstage. 

Dressed in shimmering, flowy red silk, four girls stood waiting in the wings. Kyungsoo had never seen them outside of rehearsals so he’d assumed they were first-years. That air of innocence still clung to these girls, the one of barely suppressed excitement simmering beneath their skin. They were exploring a brave new world where every experience was by default, exhilarating and scintillating. Kyungsoo had been like them once. He still got excited over some things, but experience had taught him to be more careful about hiding his awe from people around him. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Holding hands in a circle, the tall, willowy girls whispered words of nervous encouragement to each other. One of them squeaked as Baekhyun introduced them to the audience and the rest asked her to shush. Seconds later, they were gliding elegantly across the stage in sequinned ballet slippers and taking their places at their individual mic stands. A cold hard lump of panic began to form in Kyungsoo’s gut as his head finally caught up with the fact that he was now two performances away from his turn. 

_Fuck._

He couldn’t do this. He didn't want any of this—didn't want the glare of the stage lights in his eyes, and the heat of them on his skin. Everyone would be staring at him and he was going to fucking lose it, lose his dinner like that kid in the Eminem song or had it been Eminem himself? Anyway, the one who’d puked up his mom’s spaghetti. He was totally going to puke up the mandu Umma had made him. Fuck his life. 

His fingers clutched at his chest, scrabbling to find the outline of the angel wings through the stretched fabric of his shirt. The corner of his vision filled with the inked lines of angel wings. Kyungsoo wanted to be calm. Holding on to the pendant and tattoo Jongin had gifted him should have lent him some sense of peace but the pounding of his heart was an insistent, hot buzzing in his ears. Would he even be able to hear the music over his heartbeat to be able to sing to it? Would be be able to remember the opening lines of the song? 

How was he going to get through this? He wasn’t. He wasn’t going to get through this. He couldn't walk out there and sing, couldn't walk out there and enjoy himself. He’d promised Jongin he would fly but he couldn’t fly. Not now. Not today. He just fucking couldn't.

With fingers that were numb and cold and shaky, Kyungsoo reached inside the pocket of his fitted dress pants. Tao had texted him half an hour earlier, telling him to “slay”. He enjoyed talking to Jongin’s best friend. They talked about everything. The ongoing tension with Tao’s parents, the pros and cons of living with an overprotective Kris, and Jongin. Kyungsoo liked asking Tao questions about Jongin and what he’d been like in high school. Tao found his curiosity amusing and shared what he knew, which wasn’t a whole lot because Jongin had always been so quiet about everything. Kyungsoo liked Tao. He liked Tao a lot and the other boy’s good luck message had offered him some genuine comfort. But Tao’s message wasn’t the reason why Kyungsoo was in dire and immediate need of his phone. No, Tao wasn’t the reason at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongin’s attention was beginning to drift. The girls in red were apparently singing _a capella_ , whatever the hell that even meant. According to the noisy emcee, the quartet was called A Haunting Melody and they were freshmen in Garnier’s Vocal program. _Freshmen_. That explained the wide-eyed innocence and determined brightness. Jongin had skipped that entire excited-about-everything freshman phase. He couldn’t even remember a time when he’d ever been that naive about anything. Maybe when he was ten, he thought cynically.

The girls’ voices were high and sweet and well-harmonized but this was all going over his head. This sort of thing obviously appealed to some people. Umma and Hyewon were watching with rapt attention, for one. As for Kyungsoo’s dad—Jongin squinted at Mr. Do in the semi-darkness and he could swear the man was rolling his eyes. The movement was subtle but unmistakable and Jongin’s mouth ached from trying not to smile. Looked like he wasn’t the only one here who didn’t get this _a cappella_ shit. He got that people could be into this but could someone just sing a goddamn rock song? Was that too much to fucking ask? Never mind. He just had to get through two more acts and then it would be Kyungsoo’s turn. Jongin would listen to Kyungsoo sing anything. It didn’t even have to be a rock song. It could be fucking opera and he would still listen (he’d probably hate it but he would try his best not to make it too obvious that he did). 

The tallest girl—the one with the strawberry blond curls who stood out because the others had straight, dark hair—hit a high note and Jongin flinched as his body was saddled with goosebumps he didn’t want. He was in the middle of forcing his muscles to relax when his phone began vibrating against his thigh. _Damnit_. Was it Kyungsoo? Had something happened? Jongin felt his muscles tensing again as he pulled the phone out. 

_Shit_. A call. From Kyungsoo. He had to go. Making whispered excuses, Jongin climbed out of his seat and made quick but painful progress past half a row of annoyed concertgoers. When he was out in the aisle and finally clear of human limbs, he answered the call. Kyungsoo hadn’t hung up, thank fuck. “Soo? You okay,” he asked in a soft, anxious voice.

“I’m not. . .not okay.” He sounded broken and Jongin’s heart sank. 

Jongin cupped his hand over his mouth so Kyungsoo could hear him more clearly over the speakers. “What do you want me to do, Soo? Just tell me.” 

“Can you come? I’m backstage. I need you to come now. Please, Jongin.” Kyungsoo sounded even more panicky and disconnected than he had in the bathroom that morning. This was bad. He had to find his way over to where Kyungsoo was. No matter what. 

“I’m on my way. Just hang on, ok? Hang on,” Jongin instructed in a calm voice but it was too late. Kyungsoo had already ended the call. Jongin didn’t know how the fuck he was going to access the backstage area but his feet were already taking him to the auditorium exit. He’d read through the concert program more than once and he was pretty sure Minseok wasn’t due to perform till after intermission. Minseok would have the answers he needed. Jongin only hoped the Pit Bull had his phone on and that he’d take his call. But first, he needed to obtain the guy’s actual cellphone number. There hadn’t been any reason to ask for it when Minseok was so in-your-face about treating Jongin like he was Kyungsoo’s Biggest Mistake. It was a good thing Luhan didn’t hate Jongin as much as his boyfriend seemed to do.

“Luhan, hey. I need your help.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kyungsoo stared at the neatly printed words. He sang the words in his head but no matter how hard he tried, the words just refused to latch onto his memory. The moment he tried to sing _Gravity_ without referring to the printed lyrics, his brain faltered and gave him nothing. The paper was soft and crumpled from how much he’d handled it in the past hour and he was still no closer to remembering lyrics he had technically committed to memory weeks ago. Why was this happening to him? Why now when he had to sing on his own with no choir members to distract the audience from his failure to recall a single word of the song he was supposed to sing for them. Just his fucking luck, Kyungsoo thought as he tugged the hem of his jacket in frustration. 

“Do Kyungsoo.” A voice interrupted his panic-stricken reverie. Kyungsoo looked up to see Henry Lau watching him thoughtfully, one eyebrow raised. Henry’s dyed, chestnut brown hair was styled up and off of his forehead in artful waves and he wore a white crew neck top teamed with a tailored white suit. Someone else might have looked like a complete tool in that all-white outfit, but Henry just looked handsome and very much in his element. 

The thing with Henry Lau was that it wasn't just about him being attractive—there was plenty of substance too. The Masters student was incredibly talented and had done multiple collaborations with Kyungsoo’s choral group in concerts and recitals over the years. Henry’s fingers could dance over piano keys with an intense passion that moved people in the audience. Kyungsoo loved watching Henry play, and he wished, desperately, that he could borrow just a few tiny scraps of Henry’s poise. That way he might actually have a shot at making it through the next twenty to thirty minutes of his goddamned life without losing his dinner.

“Good luck, Henry,” Kyungsoo said at last, trying to force his lips into some semblance of a smile.

“You look a little stressed, kid.” Henry narrowed his gaze, eyes far too perceptive for Kyungsoo’s comfort.

“Yeah. I’m. . .not really cut out for solo singing.” Kyungsoo could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He hated looking weak in front of others—especially in front of someone he respected this much. He hated looking weak and he hated leaning on others. He especially hated that he was doing all of the things he hated tonight because of one dumb performance. One fucking dumb performance that was going to last a mere three minutes and thirty-five seconds. 

“That is the hardest thing,” Henry sighed. “Singing solo, I mean. I tried it out when I was a kid, you know? Sang while I played the piano. I didn’t like having to look at people while I was performing. I couldn’t really let myself go and feel the music. After two years of that shit, I told my mom: _no more singing_. I’ve had a piano to hide behind since. No regrets.”

“I don’t have a piano to hide behind,” Kyungsoo pointed out miserably.

“That’s true,” Henry smiled, “but you have this amazing voice, Do Kyungsoo. It’s deep and strong and sincere. You sing from the heart and people will respond to it. I can play the piano from the heart but I can’t sing the same way. You’ll be fantastic. You’ll see.” Henry’s hand was solid and sure on his shoulder and Kyungsoo wanted very much to believe what the older boy was saying.

“I can’t remember any words to even sing them.” Kyungsoo’s hand was traveling up to his hair and he remembered, only at the last minute, that he couldn’t drag his hand through his gelled-up hair. In the same way, he could drag his hand over his foundation-covered face. He would have been so mad at himself if he’d messed up the makeup Jongin had so painstakingly applied for him. _Jongin_. He hoped Jongin would get here soon. He’d never let Kyungsoo down in the weeks he'd known him but this auditorium was such a maze, and it wasn't like Art majors had any reason to wander around this place at all.

“This probably sounds like bullshit right now, but the words will come. I heard you sing this afternoon and you sounded amazing. The words will come back to you when you hear the music. Things probably feel a bit crazy right now but when you’re on the stage, they’ll come back.”

“I hope you’re right.” Kyungsoo stared down at his black, patent leather dress shoes. Focusing on the glossy leather was easier than maintaining eye contact with Henry.

“I know I am. Anyway. it’s my turn next. Need to go prep. Good luck, kid,” Henry said before giving Kyungsoo a fleeting hug, careful not to crease their stage outfits. Then he was gone in a flash of white. 

“Still can’t remember a damn word,” Kyungsoo muttered under his breath, the frost in his fingers crawling up his arm in a relentless tide. He turned so he had an unobstructed view of the stage as it it lay there in the menacing distance. He stared at the red slashes of color, heard the tinkling voices that sounded further away than they should have. That fucking stage. He was going to collapse on that fucking stage before he even had a chance to sing. He was going to collapse on that stage and fucking die. 

His breathing was becoming more rapid, more shallow. His fingers were frigid icicles. How would he even wrap them around his microphone? Would they crack and break if he tried to bend them?

 _Breathe, Do Kyungsoo! Just fucking breathe! Please, oh God, breathe—_

“Soo! Yah! Do Kyungsoo, can you hear me?” The voice sounded strangely muffled and echoey, like Kyungsoo was hearing it through a curtain of water, like he was somehow trapped at the bottom of some lake. 

The voice was muffled and echoey but _familiar_. He knew that voice but who—

“Snap out of it, Soo!” The voice was getting louder and Kyungsoo made himself turn around. Sharp, elfin features and a rosebud mouth. He knew this face. He’d known this face forever. It was Minseok. He was barking things at Kyungsoo but the buzzing in his ears was so loud Kyungsoo couldn’t make out what he was saying. Why was the buzzing so loud? Like angry bees in his ear. 

Minseok’s hands were clamped over his shoulders. “Soo, are you listening? He’s on his way.”

“I don’t—“ But Kyungsoo couldn’t remember what he was going to say. He just knew that he didn’t want Minseok’s hands on him. They were the wrong hands, he thought, as he wriggled out of Minseok’s grasp.

Minseok made a frustrated noise before repeating, “He’s on his way.”

Who was on his way? Did Minseok mean Jongin? Was Jongin on his way? He didn’t want Jongin to be on his way. He wanted Jongin to be here with him _now_. He needed him to be—

“Soo?” 

Kyungsoo knew this voice too. All of a sudden, strong arms were reaching around him and pulling him into a gentle hug. And the hands on his back—they were the right hands. 

“I can’t fly, Jongin. I can’t. . .can’t fly.” The words spilled out of Kyungsoo’s mouth in an agonized rush. 

“Shh, Soo. It doesn’t matter. It’s okay if you can’t,” Jongin’s warm voice was like a lifeline and Kyungsoo clung to it, clung to the strong arms that held him, clung to Jongin. He clung to Jongin like he would shatter to pieces if he didn't.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>  Well, I hope the chapter wasn't too dull or repetitive. I just wanted to really drive home the point that stage fright is a thing and it's not something you can just will away. I have a genuine fear of speaking or singing in front of a large group of people so I was projecting a lot of my own issues on to poor Kyungsoo. I'm sorry, Kyungsoo. Anyway, I hope you did not find this chapter too depressing or disappointing ;;; 
> 
> If you care about this fic or have ever cared about it at some point, I hope you will leave me comments and kudos on this ao3 post as I may retire my AFF account at the end of the year. I could really do with some sign right now that people still read this and want to know how the story ends. Thank you for all the support you've given this story - especially the readers who have been following this pretty much from the start. You guys are a treasure! Come say hi on my [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/caffelotus) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/lotusk) if you wanna talk about the fic or ask me stuff. 
> 
> Love, Adele.


End file.
